Prospero's Legacy
by jane0904
Summary: Following directly from VOLCANO'S EDGE, this is the continuing adventures in the Mal/Freya 'verse. Going out to meet the Re-Pax threat head on, Mal and his family have to make some tough decisions. Read, review, enjoy! Now complete, but more to come.
1. Chapter 1

**:Open Data Transmission: TOP SECRET – CLASSIFIED – A1 or better – EYES ONLY: Transmission begins:**

As ordered the Alliance Scout Vessel Normandy was dispatched to the area of space adjacent to the Burnham Quadrant, near the planet Miranda. A full complement of officers, enlisted and medical personnel were on board, numbering some fifty-two. As they approached the area, a constant communication stream was maintained, with full telemetric scans and medical data being transferred over the link. Commander Allard reported an initial sighting, stating the vessel appeared to be a modified Avocet with magnetic grappler. She informed her crew to remain calm and at their stations. The following are excerpts from the recordings made at the time.

"...they've attached. I can hear them burrowing into the hull. My crew are tense, but holding well under the stress. Dr Parker is ready with the transmission units ..."

"...they have broken into the main cargo bay! Initial reaction to the ... Mother of God! It's not working! The damn gas isn't ... All personnel, open fire! Franchot, get us out here! Rip us open if you have to, just ..."

"…My God, please no! Someone, someone help us! They're killing us! It isn't working! It isn't …"

At this point all contact with the ASV Normandy was lost. The IAV Heigl was dispatched to the area, and they obtained evidence (attached in separate file) that Commander Allard operated the self-destruct sequence. However, three weeks after this incident, a Reaver vessel identified as the same that attacked the Normandy was downed on the third moon of Albion, during which all occupants were destroyed. DNA tests on various remains found on board indicate that at least a dozen of the Normandy's crew were taken during the attack, including Commander Allard herself. It appears they were kept as provisions. There were no survivors.

It should also be noted that the Reaver attacks have been increasing in number, and also moving closer to the Core.

**:Close Data Transmission:**

* * *

Gabriel Tam sat back in his chair and ran his hand through his dark hair. He'd noticed lately that it was thinner than usual, but he wasn't surprised. The illness had made him more gaunt, taking a lot of his body mass, so it stood to reason that his hair would go as well.

Not that it mattered much. Regan was hardly speaking to him again. Nothing new about that since she'd been estranged from him for years, only coming back when he'd almost pleaded, telling her he was sick. They had nothing to talk to each other about, though. Every night they sat at either end of the table, politely asking each other to pass the salt, how their respective days had gone, and never saying what they really needed to.

Leaning forward again, he studied the decoded message. He'd heard about the death of Anton Kendrick, of course, and said a small prayer. He never really liked the man – something to do with his politics, Gabriel always told himself, but the truth was Kendrick had made him look at himself, look at what he'd done ... or rather, what he hadn't. He'd tried to atone, tried to make things right, but for some time he'd wondered if he'd have the days to see it through.

And now, he was pretty certain he wouldn't. If this was right, Quintana was much closer than he had imagined to completing his plan. And if he did that ... there was nothing anyone could do to stop the abominations from getting loose.

"Gabriel." Regan stood in the doorway.

"What?"

"I've been calling you for ten minutes."

"Sorry. I was working."

"It's time to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

She stepped into the study. "You know the doctor said you had to have enough calories, or the treatment won't work."

"It's not working anyway."

She shook her head slightly. "I don't remember you ever giving up before."

"I gave up on Simon and River, though, didn't I?" He fixed her with a glare. "Isn't that what you've told me, over and again?"

Regan closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. "I thought we'd decided not to talk about them?"

"You brought it up."

She bit back on her response. "Whatever, you still need to eat."

"I suppose." He stared at the screen again.

"Gabriel."

"What?"

She slid into the chair opposite him. "It can't be as bad as all that."

"Can't it?" He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it came through loud and clear. "You tell me how it can be better, Regan, because I'd like to know."

"Fine." She went to get up.

He couldn't let her. "Regan, wait. I'm sorry."

"Why do you shut me out?" she asked, her eyes studying him, trying to see the man she'd fallen in love with, the man she'd so desperately wanted children with that she'd agreed to his decision to go to the agency. "Gabriel, tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help."

A small smile twisted his lips. "I don't see how."

"Try me."

He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "I drove him away, Regan. He told me what they were doing to River, and I told him I wouldn't come for him again."

"Simon."

"Simon."

"Is this to do with him, then?"

"I ..." It was no good. No matter how willing she was to listen, to support him, it wasn't fair to drag her into it. "No, Regan. And it isn't anything for you to worry about."

"But it is for you?" she asked shrewdly. "You can't protect me, Gabriel. I know those men have been here again. And I've seen the guards you've got in the grounds, a lot more than ever before. What are you so afraid of?"

"Hurting you. Seeing you hurt."

"I thought you didn't care about me any longer."

"Oh, Regan. I never said that."

Her eyes widened. They hadn't talked about their feelings in a long time, probably even before Simon kidnapped his sister and disappeared. The look on his face disconcerted her too. "Gabriel, I –"

"Hadn't we better go in to dinner?" he suggested, giving her an out, and – if truth be told – giving himself one too.

"We have to talk sometime."

"Well, it will have to be after I get back." He levered himself to his feet, holding onto the edge of the desk for a moment as a wave of nausea warred with the light-headedness.

"Get back?" She ignored the blood rushing from his complexion – he hated anyone drawing attention to his illness. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I have ... business dealings to attend to."

She stood up. "Gabriel, you haven't had business dealings for more than a year, not since you retired."

"Don't."

"What?"

"I didn't exactly have a choice."

"You're sick. I'm not accusing you of anything." She looked down at the large diamond ring on her finger, the ring he put there the day he'd asked her to marry him. God, had they ever been that young? "Except perhaps keeping too much to yourself." She moved closer to him. "Gabriel, I'm still your wife. No matter what's happened between us. And I want to help you. That's why I came back."

"Because I'm sick."

"Partly." She reached for his hand, feeling the bones under the thin flesh, the wedding band now so loose. "But I still care. When I heard you were ill –"

"We knew it was going to happen, Regan."

"No. You're not going to get away this time. You've spent half your life running from things you didn't want to see. It's time to stop."

"Oh, I have. And I won't put you in any danger."

A thrill of something ran up her spine. "You really think I'm –"

He squeezed her hand. "Regan, stop. Please."

"No. And wherever you're going, I'm going with you."

This time he backed away. "No. Forget it."

"I won't forget it. If I'm in danger then so are you, and I don't want to be sitting here or anywhere else wondering what's happening."

For a long moment he didn't speak, then when he did it was as if he was repeating a mantra. "All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

She looked at him, an expression he hadn't seen for a long time on her face. "And you think that's what's happening?"

"We've allowed it already, Regan."

"I don't understand."

"We're supposed to live in a democracy, where freedom of speech is allowed, even encouraged … When was the last time you saw someone stand up and say the Alliance has done something wrong?"

"Well …" She shook her head. "Perhaps no-one feels that way."

He smiled sadly. "My dear, don't pretend. No-one says anything because they're not allowed to. Even the so-called free press aren't anymore."

"But they report all the news - it's on the Cortex all the time."

"They report what the Alliance wants you to hear." He led her to the sofa, making her sit next to him. "Did you know the Reaver attacks are increasing?"

"Reavers?" She seemed surprised. "They're just a story to frighten children."

He laughed, just a single, pitiful sound. "I wish they were. They're real enough."

"But the Alliance –"

"Have been lying to us. To all of us for a very long time. Only I was too blind, and too stupid, to see it."

"Gabriel –"

"You saw the Miranda broadwave. We all did. Didn't you believe it?"

She looked down at her hands. "I ... I didn't want to."

"Oh, my dear. That doesn't make it false."

She looked up. "But you said about attacks. There's not been any mention on the main news –"

"Exactly. Oh, it's there, but you need to know where to look. The more … subversive channels." He sighed. "Now I know how Simon felt when he tried to tell me about his sister. I believed he was wrong. Only now, God help me, I believe he might have been right."

"About them hurting her?" Regan's hand flew to her mouth.

He could see the pain in her eyes, and wished he hadn't said anything, but it was too late to stop now. "I've talked to people, people we'd never have let through the servants' entrance, let alone the front door, people who know things. Regan, if the Alliance knew I'd been speaking to them, I'd be locked up."

"What … what did they tell you?"

He squeezed her hand. "It was true. All of it. They were hurting our little girl, and I didn't do anything to stop them."

"We didn't know, Gabriel."

"No?" He stood up, feeling stronger now the truth had come out. "I think it's more that we didn't want to know. Didn't want our lives disrupted, disturbed, disarranged." He leaned on the fireplace, looking deep into the flames. "He put me to shame, Regan. He gave up everything for his sister, and I let him." He shook his head. "He might never have been my genetic son, but he was more of a man than I will ever be."

"You're going to find him, aren't you?" Regan said slowly.

He turned quickly, surprised at her insight. "And if I am?"

"Then I'm coming."

"Regan –"

"He may not be 'ours' as you put it, but I carried him for nine months. Him and River. I gave birth to them, loved them. Maybe not as much as I should have, but I still love them. I long to see them again. I have, since the moment Simon vanished." She stepped forward. "Do you know where they are?"

"I …" He was suddenly afraid. Not of Regan, but of the very air around them. "No." He was willing her to understand, not to press him.

"Then I can't let you go." She seemed more forceful, taking command of the situation. "In fact, I think we should go to the cottage for a while. Take your mind off these fanciful thoughts. And I can look after you properly."

He stared at her, then realised her right eyelid was moving, just a tiny amount. She was winking at him. She _did_ understand.

"The cottage?" He made himself appear to consider. "It's been so long since we've been there. I don't even know if it's in a fit state to stay in."

"Then we'll make it fit. It will be good for you." She crossed to him, putting one hand on his shoulder, the other on his arm. "And you can forget all this nonsense."

"Perhaps it is. I … I find it hard to think sometimes," he admitted, playing along.

"It's the illness, Gabriel. As soon as the treatment starts to work, you'll feel better, so much more like your old self. I'll see to that."

"Will you look after me?"

"Of course. 'Til death do us part."

"I thought you'd already parted from me." This was him, not the Gabriel Tam he was portraying for any hidden surveillance devices that might have slipped past his net.

"Perhaps I did. And perhaps I'm regretting it." She smiled. "If you'll let me come back."

"I wish you'd never gone, _bao-bei_."

"Then I'll get us packed. The sooner we get to the cottage, the better." She walked to the door. "And I'm not letting anyone have our address. This is our time, Gabriel. Yours and mine. And no matter who calls, we won't be answering."

"Of course, my love." He watched her leave the room, admiring the metal inside her, then turned back to the fire. The truth was, he didn't believe there was anyone listening in, but after the last time those men came, he couldn't be entirely sure. But at least he knew now what he had to do to make things right.


	2. Chapter 2

"Of course they can stay." Inara looked towards the children frolicking in the orchard with all of the dogs. "You don't even need to ask. This is as much their home as mine."

Serenity had touched down the night before, too late for anything other than a hurried hello and a promise to meet for breakfast. Now that everyone was full to almost bursting point from Ms Boden's magical touch, Mal had taken Inara for a walk to talk about the real reason for their visit.

"Sure Sam won't object?" Mal asked, thumbs wedged firmly in his pants pockets.

"Why should he?"

"I don't know. Having his space invaded by a load of folks under four feet tall."

Inara smiled. "You obviously don't know him as well as you think you do."

"But you do?"

She led him to the ornate cast-iron chair. "Mal, we've talked about having children, and this will be good practice for him."

He sat down slowly. "Put him off the idea, you mean."

"No. In fact entirely the opposite."

He stared at her, glad his buttocks were already on the cold metal. "'Nara, you saying you're … pregnant?"

She shook her head. "Not yet." Smoothing her dress automatically, she added, "But I want a child. With Sam."

"It's that serious?"

"I love him."

"Like you loved me?" The instant he said it he wished he hadn't, but she merely folded her hands in her lap and gazed at him.

"No. It's quite different. You were a flame I was drawn to like a moth, so close I was singeing my wings. Sam is the banked coals, all heat and passion beneath the surface."

He wondered briefly at the flash of jealousy that shot through him, but realised it was probably always going to be that way. He _had _loved her, and he had to admit he'd felt something of the same when Kaylee fell for the doctor, and Zoe for the pilot. Not with River, though, although that was probably something to do with knowing that she looked on him as her father. So a touch of jealousy was to be expected, if not approved of. He said quickly, "So he's the one got cold feet about having kids?"

She'd seen the thoughts cross his mind as clearly as if she'd been a Reader, but chose not to comment on them. "Mal, he's got a grown-up daughter, and two grandchildren. He thinks he's too old to start another family."

"Too … He ain't much older'n Jayne!"

"That's what I've been telling him. Well, not the part about Jayne, but –"

"You want I should speak to him? Get him to see reason?"

She raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. "And have you put him off the idea entirely?"

"Now, 'Nara, you know I wouldn't do that, not intentionally."

"Then thank you for the offer, but no. Let him see how wonderful it is to have children around. Remind him of the joys it can bring. Then we'll see."

A shout drew their attention to where Ethan was rolling on the ground being tickled by the others and laughing hysterically. Inara gave an indulgent smile.

"You know, you'd make a great mom," Mal said quietly.

Her head jerked around to stare at him in surprise. "What?"

He grinned. "Just said, you'll make a good mother. And I ain't sure I should be leaving my kids with you if you've started to say _what_ instead of _pardon_."

"Did you just pay me a compliment, Captain?"

"Purely unintentional, Ms Serra." He expected a snappy comeback, something about having to write this in her diary, but she surprised him yet again.

Her face dissolved into one of the happiest smiles he'd ever seen from her. "Thank you."

He felt a blush run up his chest. "Hey, just saying the truth."

"If I were half as good as Kaylee or Freya, or Zoe or River …" She laughed. "I'd be content."

"Well, you can practice on them." He nodded towards where Ethan was intent on getting his revenge by chasing Bethie with what looked like a handful of mud. "And you might wanna be starting now."

"A little dirt isn't going to hurt them, Mal. And the bath is big enough for them all."

"'Nara, you go on surprising me like this and I'm gonna have to have the doc standing by, since I'm gonna be having a heart attack." He clutched his chest theatrically.

"What, did you think I was going to be horrified that they're getting a little grubby?" She laughed again, and it was a sweet and innocent sound.

"Wasn't sure."

"It's what children do. They shouldn't be made to sit in a corner and behave."

"No problem with them getting anywhere close to doing that," Mal said, skittering away from the slight tang of bitterness in her voice that told of personal experience. They'd never talked about what her family life was like before the Guild, and perhaps she hadn't even told Freya, so he wasn't going to pry. "And don't be expecting to keep 'em. We'll be back soon enough to take 'em off your hands."

The mood sobered instantly between them again.

"Do you really have to do this?" she asked. "If you're going up against the Alliance –"

"Done it before. Figure these are my particular windmills."

"Don't go quoting Cervantes at me, Mal," she said, her voice just a trifle waspish. "And you've got family this time."

"Did before, just maybe didn't realise it like I should." He leaned forwards and took one of her hands in his. "I ain't Don Quixote, 'Nara, and Frey ain't Dulcinea. I know what I'm doing, and why, and it's something I need to do to keep us all safe."

She gazed into his blue eyes and finally nodded. "I understand. And I think you should talk to Sam. He still has a lot of contacts in the Core. And I have a few influential friends from my whoring days."

His lips twitched. "Whoring?

"I thought I'd make you feel more at _home_."

"Pointing out one of my many faults, more like."

"Whatever."

"And thanks, but no. I'll talk to Sam, but I don't want either of you involved in this. It might get back to someone if you start asking awkward questions, and –"

She squeezed his hand. "I understand. You don't want your children threatened."

"That's pretty much it in a nutshell. Else there'd be no point in us breakin' our hearts by leaving them here with you."

"We'll take good care of them, Mal." She smiled a little. "They're going to be as fat as pigs and spoiled rotten by the time you get back."

"That's guaranteed." He smiled and turned back to watch Ethan wrestle Bethie to the ground. "And I know you will."

* * *

Mal hadn't been lying to her father when he said he needed Kaylee, but he wanted her and her unborn child to be safe too, so he tried one last time to make her stay, this time saying he needed her to take care of the children on Lazarus. She hadn't taken too kindly to the suggestion.

"You need me, Cap," Kaylee said, not even looking at him as she adjusted something inside Serenity's engine. "I'm staying."

"Kaylee, you nearly lost -"

He didn't know how she managed it, but suddenly he was backed up against the bulkhead and she was waving her wrench in his face. "I'm staying! There ain't no way I'm leaving while you all go traipsing across the 'verse trying to stop this thing happening."

Her eyes were blazing, and for a moment he considered how magnificent she was when she was truly angry. Then the wrench got a little too close for comfort. "Kaylee, can we talk without you threatening me?"

"No." Still, she took half a step back. "I know I … I nearly lost this baby. But so did Simon, and I don't see you tellin' him he's gotta stay on Lazarus. And I wouldn't'a been so close to losing him at all if all this wasn't going on, so I see it's the fault of someone else, and I'm gonna make 'em pay for that."

"Kaylee, this isn't about revenge."

"Then what is it?"

"Doing the right thing."

"That got folks killed before." As soon as the words left her mouth, Kaylee wished she could drag them back, pummel them into the ground before she could be so stupid as to remind Mal of the good friends he'd lost. But it was too late. His eyes had already saddened.

"I know, _xiao mei-mei,_" he said softly. "I know it was my fault Wash and Book died. And there ain't a day goes by without me wishing it were otherwise. But do you think they'd be proud of me if I just walked away from this? If I could do something to stop it and did nothing?"

"Cap … Mal …"

"If Niska was right, if the Alliance have a way to control the Reavers, we gotta stop them. Else there won't be any place safe to hide where they can't find us. Any of us."

"I know. And that's why I'm going with you. What if Serenity breaks down? If you need her to get you away from something bad but she won't go to full burn? What if -"

"I need you safe, Kaylee."

She fixed him with a stern eye. "You said that to Freya?"

"Well, I might have …" His voice died away, then he sighed. "Okay, yes, I tried, but she didn't listen to me. Pretty much like you're not listening to me either."

She moved closer again, but this time it was with tenderness. "Cap, Sam and Inara … they're gonna take good care of the kids. And I'm going with you because I know Bethie and Hope are safe, and I don't have to worry about them. They've got that shelter Mr Boden built, food a'plenty, water … nothing's gonna happen to 'em. Just like my Pa promised to do. And that means we can go do what we need to, 'cause they'll be here when we come back."

"I just -"

"I know. And I'm scared outta half my wits just thinking about what we're planning, and I know soon as we get out into the black I'm gonna go find someplace quiet and cry my eyes out at having to leave my girls. But Simon and me are staying."

"You're a remarkable woman, Kaylee."

"No, I ain't. Just doing what you pay me for." She smiled shakily. "Now get out of my engine room so I can earn my keep and finish what I was doing so's we can get airborne."

"My engine room, _mei-mei_. My ship."

"Then go be captain someplace else." She hefted the wrench again. "'Less you wanna make closer acquaintance with -"

He put up his hands. "I'm going, I'm going." He turned and strode out, muttering something under his breath about no-one listening to him no more.

"Oh, we listen," Kaylee whispered. "And we're right proud of you," she added on just a breath. "I know we are. We all are."

But he didn't hear.

* * *

And now it was time. And it was hard. Possibly the hardest thing he'd ever done in his long and frankly eventful life. Leaving the children on Lazarus was killing him, and he could only guess at how it was affecting Frey.

Mal looked around the shelter Mr Boden had constructed under the house, but he barely saw it.

"It takes the water from an underground stream," Sam was saying. "Deep enough to stay uncontaminated, no matter what," he added. "And with the air filtration unit and all the supplies …" He stopped. "Mal, why are you here?"

Serenity's captain looked up in surprise. "So you can show me around."

"I mean, why aren't you with your family? Saying goodbye?"

Mal swallowed, the lump in his throat not moving one inch. "Frey's with them. I didn't want to -"

"She needs you. _They_ need you. Go. Be with them."

"But I -"

"Go."

Mal stared at the older man, a sincere look of understanding on his olive-toned face, and nodded, striding out without another word.

* * *

Freya was sitting on the floor in Ethan's room, the big windows wide open and letting in the afternoon sun, but all her attention was on the children in her arms.

She was gazing at Ethan, his little face serious as he listened carefully.

"I know you understand why we have to do this," she said softly.

He nodded. "Yes, Mama." His hand was twisted in the back of her shirt, so tightly he didn't want to let go. "Keep us safe."

"That's right. Keep you both safe. And I need you to look after Jesse."

"Course."

"And Auntie 'Nara's going to be relying on you to help her with the other children."

"I will, Mama."

She looked into his blue eyes. "Oh, Ethan, you are so like your Daddy." She kissed him on the forehead. "And I want you to keep an eye on Bethie, too. She's going to find it hard, worrying about her Mommy and Daddy, as well as the new baby, let alone …" She stopped. Distance might not be enough for Bethie not to be able to peek, and just the thought of what she might see made Freya feel sick, and a tear forced its way down her cheek.

Ethan wiped it carefully away. "Don't cry, Mama. I'll be the man of the house."

She had to smile. "I know you will."

"Mama going?" Jesse asked, her little face screwing up. "Don't love us no more?"

Freya felt her heart break. "Oh, Jesse …" She gathered them in close, tears falling freely now, then looked up to see Mal standing in the open doorway.

He didn't need any more invitation, and crossed the room in two strides, going down onto his knees and hugging his family to him.

"Jesse, honey, we need to know you're safe," he said, feeling her long brown hair against his cheek. "Your Ma and me, we got things our children need not to be a part of. And we can only do 'em if we know you're not going to get hurt."

"But come back?" She was trying to get it straight in her head.

"Oh, sweetie, of course we will!" Freya moved back enough so she could look into her daughter's brown eyes. "And it won't be long. I promise." She found a smile from somewhere. "And when we come back we'll have a party, and there'll be cake and balloons and -"

"Pressies?" the little girl asked hopefully.

"Yes, pressies."

"And me?" Ethan put in.

Freya's smile widened a little. "I'm sure we can find something a growing young man wants."

"I love you, Mama," he said, burrowing his head into her chest and hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe, although that might have been the emotion clogging her lungs.

"Me too, Mama," Jesse added, doing the same the other side.

"I love you too," she whispered, more tears brimming. "All of you." She touched them both on the crown of their heads with her lips, then looked up at Mal. _It can't be long. I don't think I could bear it._

_It won't_. His own tears were threatening. _I promise._ He gathered them all against his chest, and prayed it wasn't lying.

* * *

Inara watched the Firefly take off into the wide blue sky, until she became just a dot and then disappeared entirely. It had been so hard to stand there while everyone said their last goodbyes, and the children had to be taken into the kitchen and plied with hot chocolate and cookies before they stopped crying.

Having to wipe tears from her own cheeks, Inara went back inside and walked slowly up the stairs.

She understood why Mal was doing what he was doing, and why the crew were behind him one hundred percent, but she couldn't get rid of the feeling that someone was going to die. Not necessarily one of her friends, but … Sometimes she wished she were a Reader, able to see the shape of things that were coming, to be able to pick out the details of anything bad that might befall her family. Then she remembered River, and Freya, and the darkness they battled every day, and thanked Buddha that she wasn't.

She headed into her and Sam's bedroom, and was surprised to see him already there. "What's that?" she asked, watching him pack something carefully away in his rarely used medical bag.

He looked up. "Something Simon gave me."

"What are they?"

Sam glanced towards the door, making sure it was closed firmly. "A dozen doses of Heretofen."

Immediately Inara's mind went back to her old friend and teacher, Medori, and the daughter they'd reunited her with. When Grace's psychic abilities had been turned on almost like flicking a switch, she'd found it difficult to control them, and when Serenity left Simon had given her mother a number of hypos of Heretofen for when times were really bad. And now to find he'd done the same … "For Bethie?" she whispered.

Sam nodded. "What they're going to do, what they're planning, it might be better if Bethie didn't see."

"Oh, Sam." Inara's face went white.

"I hope to Buddha we never have to use them," he added quickly, gathering her into his arms. "And it will only be if she asks."

Her hands slowly came up until she was pressing her palms in his back. "She knows?"

"Of course. Simon spoke to her about it."

"Poor Bethie."

"He did the right thing," Sam assured her. "Bethie is very advanced, but she is still only a child. And no matter how much she promises not to peek, you know she won't be able to resist, even if it's only because she's afraid for her family."

"I know."

He stroked the skin of her neck. "I was going to tell you anyway. If I'm not here for any reason, you have to know where they are so you can administer them if need be."

She drew back to stare into his almond eyes. "Why wouldn't you -"

"Things happen, Inara. I've come to realise that." He drew his thumb down her cheek, ghosting over the virtually invisible scar from Anthony Han's ring. "And I don't intend going anywhere. This is just in case."

"Just in case," she echoed.

"Use the ones with the blue tops for Bethie," he went on. "The green ones are a lower dose for Ethan."

"Eth … Sam, no!" Inara was shocked and appalled.

"Freya asked Simon for them," he explained quickly. "Ethan might not be anywhere near as powerful as Bethie, but he's still empathic. And she doesn't want him to pick anything up."

"Oh, Sam …" She stepped back into him, holding him tight, feeling his arms and love surround her, and trying to gain a kernel of comfort from the contact.

Sam held her close, but his eyes travelled to the third drawer of his writing desk under the window, where the other box Simon had given him resided, and wondered if he'd ever be able to make himself use it. If the Reavers came, if Mr Boden's shelter couldn't protect them, and they were faced with a terrifying and hideous death … could he use the poison it contained? And if he did, he knew he'd never take it himself. The Reavers could do what they wanted with him, and he'd let them.

"Painless," Simon had said, pressing the box into his trembling hands. "And almost instantaneous."

"Simon, I -"

"I need you to take it. I expect you to give it back to me when we come to pick up the children again, but I need you to take it right now."

He'd swallowed, but clutched the box to his chest, right where he was clutching Inara right now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Two days previously …**

Chiang Goff glanced around the other members of the small sub-committee, and sighed. As one of the Parliamentary representatives to Blue Sun, he found it increasingly tedious to deal with these scientific types, and was close to forgetting he was a politician. However, he held back on saying exactly what he thought of them, and merely listened to the conversation.

"And she was able to direct them?" Amelia Ross asked, peering over the top of her glasses at the man on the vidscreen.

Goff looked down at his hand, making a mental note with one part of his mind to have a manicure appointment made, while another part wondered why Ms Ross didn't just have corrective surgery on her vision. Probably just liked the effect, he decided. There certainly couldn't be any other reason why she hid her curves in that ridiculous white coat, nor put her hair up in a bun at the back of her neck. He entertained himself for a moment with picturing her naked, her reddish-brown locks draped over pearly white shoulders, glasses held in one long-fingered hand, tapping against bright red lips as she gave a lecture in front of an audience of one. Namely, him.

"Yes, with surprising accuracy." Dr Forrest Petty looked satisfied, like a cat who'd just cleaned the bowl of cream. "The mission fell well within acceptable parameters, and although there was some resistance the withdrawal was completed on schedule."

He made it sound like an exercise, Goff thought. Although to Petty it probably was. Still, it was time to take matters forward. He coughed slightly, getting everyone's attention, before speaking, his voice carrying clearly. "Dr Petty, I am sure we are all fascinated by your findings, but I for one fail to see any concrete proof. None at all."

The new link was working well, making it possible to have an almost real-time conversation with the facility, and there was only a slight delay before Dr Petty responded.

"I actually don't understand your comments," he said. "My report was perfectly clear. How can I not have furnished you with proof?"

"How do we know this wasn't just coincidence?" Goff asked. "This experiment of yours doesn't seem to me to have been observed by anyone but yourself, and I for one find that … disturbing."

"Are you doubting my veracity?" Dr Petty was getting angry.

"Of course not." Goff smiled. "But you have to understand, a great deal of money has been put into this project. If there is any likelihood that you have mistaken luck for control, then we must -"

"I can assure you, there was no luck. The subject was in control for the whole time."

"Really. And yet I see that there were a number of children listed among the dead. I was of the belief that such civilian casualties were to be kept to a minimum. And that the test sites were to be those most strongly linked with the Independent movement. As far as I can see, this latest was simply a collection of homes."

"Casualties fell within accepted constraints, and as for -"

"However, I am more concerned with your comment that there was resistance to the withdrawal. That suggests you don't have the full control you have been working for. Or claim."

"There are bound to be some setbacks in any work, and in this -"

"I wish to see her."

Petty stared out of the screen. "What?"

"The girl. I wish to have a more … first hand experience. We will choose a test site together, and then I -" He stopped, and swung his hand around to include the entire sub-committee. " … _we_ can watch from start to finish. Nothing like seeing it for oneself, is there?"

"That is impossible."

"I'm sure that isn't the case."

"She can't be moved. This entire facility has been designed around her, and it simply isn't feasible to consider moving her."

"Not even for a few days?"

"No."

"That is … unfortunate. In so many more ways than you can possibly imagine."

Petty was going red in the face. "Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not." Goff smiled, at the same time noting with some satisfaction that none of his other committee members were standing up for the good doctor, not even Amelia Ross. "And I'm sure I don't have to."

"I honestly don't think -"

"Dr Quintana wouldn't have been so difficult," Goff pointed out.

Petty bridled. "Dr Quintana is no longer in charge of this project."

"And you are simply by the good auspices of this committee."

"I'll have you know my qualifications are -"

Goff spoke over him. "Undoubtedly excellent, Dr Petty, I am sure. But I am merely pointing out that you are an employee, and as such are our responsibility. As is the girl." He leaned forwards, his hands clasped lightly on the mahogany table top. "We wish to see her. Meet her. Make sure that this …" He nodded towards the bound reports. "… is an accurate representation."

"Member Goff, she doesn't see anyone except myself and my technicians. Her abilities are … unpredictable. I can't necessarily guarantee -"

"But you have guaranteed. Your progress reports haven't given any indication that she is unreliable."

Petty quickly backtracked. "I didn't say that. But I have no idea how having strangers in close proximity may affect her."

"Then perhaps it is time we found out."

He tried once more. "But we are so close to our final goal -"

Even now, Goff wouldn't let him finish, his voice hard. "Tell me, Dr Petty. Did you really believe we would allow the first full strike against these independents to be directed from your facility? When the war starts - and it will, very soon, I can assure you - the girl will have to be here on Osiris anyway, well away from any fighting or possibility of exposure." He softened his tone. "You knew this day was coming, Dr Petty."

"But so soon, I -"

"Just think of it as … foresight." Goff looked around the other members, all of them nodding in agreement with him like so many sheep. "You are to bring her here. A supply ship will be docking at your facility in less than twenty-four hours. You and anyone you see fit are to be on it when it leaves. The captain will have my orders to bring you to Osiris." He leaned forward. "I'm sure that will give you sufficient time to make any arrangements that are necessary. Thank you so much for your co-operation, Dr Petty." He hit the main switch, and the screen went blank, cutting the doctor off before he had a chance to complain.

"Member Goff, I know you have your reasons, but is it necessary to treat Dr Petty in this fashion?" Amelia Ross asked, looking over her glasses at him.

Goff stood up, allowing his expensive silk suit to fall smoothly into place. "I am merely doing my job. As you should be." He picked up his papers, sliding them into the leather briefcase. "You have a little over a week to prepare. I'm sure you wouldn't want me to have to inform my superiors that you are procrastinating. They would be _most_ displeased."

"No, no, of course not. Everything will be ready."

Inwardly Goff sighed. Even the threat of those higher up was enough to make these wimps tremble in their seats. "Very well, then." He smiled. "I'll be in touch."

He walked away from the table, closing the door firmly behind him, but waiting just outside. As anticipated, as soon as they thought he'd gone the sub-committee erupted.

"Who does he think he is?" came one voice.

"Telling us what we have to do. We're scientists," came another.

"We should report him. The Chairman would be furious if he found out how we are being treated."

"If he's not careful, it could be him on one of my slabs."

"I really think we should …"

Goff strode down the corridor, not needing to hear any more, although he was interested to note that Amelia Ross had stayed silent. She, at least, knew better than to vocalise her displeasure, and quite rightly too. Never know who might be listening in.

He tapped the handle of his briefcase, the tiny recording device doing its work as he left them to it. Stepping out into the bright Osiran sunshine, he looked up into the perpetually blue sky and allowed himself a cold smile. "Time to come home, Mara Tam," he murmured. "Time to come home."

* * *

**Now …**

"Hank, I know you love your job, but it's pretty much time for breakfast," Mal said as he climbed the steps to the bridge.

"There's been another one."

"Another what?"

"Reaver attack." The pilot turned back to the screen, his grey eyes tight as he scanned the information. "I've picked up some traffic out near Highgate. Greenleaf was hit, three days ago."

Mal leaned over his shoulder and read for himself. "Gorramit. Same as the others."

"It's more like a surgical strike than a hit, though," Hank said worriedly. "I mean, they left survivors, and Reavers don't do that. Thing is, if they hadn't, I doubt anyone'd believe it was Reavers at all."

"Any sign they took a detour and headed for Jangyin?"

Hank looked up. "You thinking about Simon Cobb?"

"Might have crossed my mind."

"Then no. They just vanished again, like the boogeymen of folk tales."

"They're very real, Hank."

"Oh, I know that. Ain't gonna forget what happened on Corvus any time soon."

"What about Sam's daughter? She lives on Greenleaf."

"Nah, I checked that too. It was a small township out in the middle of nowhere got it. She lives in the city. I think she's safe."

"Township?" Mal felt a familiar tightening in his gut as he glanced back at the screen. "It doesn't say which one. Can you find out?"

"Already did." Hank shook his head. "Some place called Fogle's Creek. Kinda like the sound of it, but I doubt …" His eyes narrowed slightly. "That mean something to you?"

"No. Why should it?"

"Because you went about as pale as you can get, given your natural pallor."

"Hank –"

"Mal. Look, I'm just the pilot, but we're all in this together. You gonna tell me?"

Mal looked down into Hank's grey eyes, and realised there was no point in lying. "I know some folks live there."

"Really?" Hank swallowed. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. You want me to find out if they're okay?"

"Probably not a good idea, since we're supposed to be staying under the radar."

"Yeah, but if they're your friends –"

"Old soldiers, Hank. Clay Fogle and I were in the same unit when I first joined up. He stopped me making too much of a fool of myself when I was so wet behind the ears I left puddles if I stood still too long. Him and Solly Hancock." Mal sat down in the co-pilot's seat, staring into the black. "When the war ended they decided to make themselves a place, got together with some like-minded folk and took themselves out to Greenleaf. Set up a little bit called home. Fogle's Creek. Ain't seen 'em in a long time."

"Mal, I can find out -"

"No. Like I said, they were soldiers. And either they're dead now or they ain't, and if they're not then they're helping those that got hit."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Mal took a deep breath. "When this is done, though, maybe we'll swing by. See if there's anything they need."

"Good idea." Hank watched his captain for a moment. "Mal … this sounds like more of what we've heard about. Hitting ex-Browncoats. Taking out possible threats to the Alliance."

"Fogle's Creek was a threat to no-one, but I take your point. Tends to make me even more sure Niska wasn't lying when he talked about control."

"Well, that's why we're out here, isn't it? Why we left the kids with Inara."

"You're right about that."

"So shouldn't we go and take a look? Maybe find a lead? Something to follow?"

"We don't want to go where they've been," Mal said with a sigh. "We need to stop 'em getting to the next one by working out the why and the who."

"And just exactly how are you planning on doing that?" Hank sounded more exasperated than usual. "I mean, I know you're captain and all, but you got any idea where to start looking? I mean, it's a gorram big 'verse out there, and if you're looking for one girl -"

"Not one girl, Hank. Whoever's doing this has to have an organisation behind them, and I'm sure hoping it's the Alliance."

"Why? So you can take another pop at them?"

"No. But something as big as the Alliance has weak spots, and weak spots can give sometimes, haemorrhage information. And we've got a head start."

"How do you figure that?"

"We know it's a girl. That's cut out half the population at a stroke."

Hank looked disgusted at his captain's bad attempt at a joke. "Oh, ha ha."

"And we've got friends in some very high places," Mal added, smiling slightly. "And more in low ones. They're looking."

"And if they find it? Find her? What then? Do you have a plan?"

Mal shrugged, gazing out at the stars. "Still working on it."

"'Cause if it's just a case of snatch -"

Serenity's captain turned back. "Hank, whatever happens, you and I both know it ain't gonna be that easy."

"No," Hank admitted. "No, I was afraid of that. So we're just gonna do our usual? Play it by ear? Basically wing it?"

"More or less."

"Oh, good," Hank said with feigned approval barely hiding his discomfort. "Just so's I know."

Mal stood up. "Look, I wish I had a whole scheme worked out, but we're gonna have to take things one step at a time. And Parth is first."

"Parth. Yeah."

"Speaking of which, what's our ETA?"

Hank checked his systems. "Should be pulling into orbit in about thirty hours."

"Good. Then there's time for breakfast. Come on, otherwise your wife'll be giving me those dagger looks because she thinks I'm starving you."

"I'll be along," Hank promised. "Just want to check things again."

"It won't have changed in the last five minutes," Mal pointed out.

"Humour me."

"Fine. But when Zoe starts complaining that you've fainted from lack of food, I'll gladly say it's all your own fault."

"Fine, fine." Hank turned back, then called over his shoulder, "You want me to pass the info to Sam? About Greenleaf getting hit?"

Mal paused in the doorway. "I don't think so. It'd only worry him, and he can't exactly do anything about it. Besides, under the radar, remember?"

"Under the radar," Hank repeated. "Yeah, got it."

Mal dropped down the steps and was about to head to the galley when he heard a slight sound from his bunk, and realised Freya was still down there. "Hey," he called. "Chow's up."

She didn't respond.

"Frey?"

Still no answer. With a slight thread of unease curling around his belly, Mal climbed down the ladder, and realised why Freya hadn't heard him. She was standing by the bed, something clutched to her chest, her head down.

"Frey."

She jerked, looking around as if she didn't quite know where she was. "What?"

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She licked her lips and lifted up a tiny stretchy sleepsuit. "I … uh … I was just going through some of the old baby clothes, see if anything might be useful for Kaylee." She put it down, picking up something knitted and fluffy instead. "I mean, these little booties have a lot of life left in them, and Kaylee will be able to -"

Mal crossed the room and put his arms around her, pulling her into him. "It's okay, Frey. They'll be fine."

"That's why we did it, isn't it?" Freya said, looking up into his blue eyes. "Why we left them."

"That's why," Mal agreed. "You know, I've seen Kaylee going around this past day or so with red eyes, but I thought you were stronger'n that."

"Seems not." She sniffed hard. "They're my children, Mal. Our children."

"And they're going to be okay with Inara and Sam. You'll see them soon." He took the booties from her, remembering the day Badger had given them to him. Odd, but he had never gotten around to telling Freya where they came from. Now, though, he held them up, waggling them slightly. "And, you know, we're gonna need these. Next time around. For ours."

"You think there's going to be more?" She turned to gaze fully into his face.

He smiled, knowing talk of more children could often pull her out of her darkness, even if it was only so she could tell him he was an idiot. "Of course there is," he said, being entirely truthful. "You promised me hundreds, and I ain't letting you renege on that."

"If you think we're going to … while all this is going on …"

"No. Not quite. But we can practice." He dipped his lips to touch hers.

"I thought you said it was breakfast?"

"Not hungry. You?"

She didn't answer, just fastened her mouth on his and wrapped her arms around him, letting his body heat warm her through.

* * *

Over in shuttle two, Jayne was having to deal with his own wife, who showed no signs on wanting to get out of bed. Or wake up, for that matter, although the twitching and whimpering she was doing was damaging his calm somewhat.

"Moonbrain?" Jayne pushed her shoulder again, ready to get out of the way if she became in the least bit violent. "Riv? You're dreaming."

She flinched, her mouth open, her eyes twitching beneath their lids as she tried to surface. Finally she managed to pry them open enough to look at him. "Go away."

He smiled, not the leering grin he used to use on women, but the sensitive one he kept just for her. "Time for breakfast."

"No, it isn't." She grabbed the blanket and rolled over, hugging herself into a little ball.

"What were you dreaming about? 'Cause it didn't seem to be the kinda thing you'd want to go back to."

"Not dreaming. Sleeping."

"Nope. Dreaming. And making little noises at that."

She glared over her shoulder at him. "What sort of noises?"

"Like you were in pain."

Now she could see the concern on his face, and she turned back to him. "Not in pain," she said. "Only dreaming."

"Something coming?" he asked, moving closer on his knees so that he could push her hair from her face.

"No. Yes." Her brow furrowed. "I don't know. Like a shadow. A dopple. A mirror."

"You really _were_ only dreaming." Jayne smiled with relief and stood up. "Come on. Breakfast is ready."

"You go. I need to wash." She stretched under the blanket, and he laughed as he made his way out of the shuttle.

"You never get dirty," he threw back over his shoulder.

She watched him disappear, then lay back onto the pillow. Now she was awake, she really didn't want to go back into the dreams. She stared into the ceiling above, trying to remember exactly what it was that had made her whimper. Oh, she knew she'd been scared all right, trying to hide from something that walked barefoot through the corridors, with the impression of long dark hair and bottomless eyes hiding behind it.

She shivered. Maybe she should talk to someone ... but who would listen? Simon would just say she was picking up on the crew's anxiety, and offer her a smoother. Mal would ask more pertinent questions, but there was nothing to tell him over trouble was coming, and he knew that already. Even Freya could only offer suggestions in control, and that probably wasn't going to help right now.

No. Better she not say anything until there was something concrete to pass on. Still ... She got out of bed and picked up her sketch pad, sitting cross-legged on the floor and letting her pencil run across the page. She stared at it, something familiar and disturbing about it, trying to read beyond the soft strokes into the meaning behind it.

"Riv? You coming or am I gonna have to carry you?" Jayne's voice broke into her reverie, and she glanced at the shuttle's chronometer, surprised that a full ten minutes had gone past.

"Coming!" she shouted back, closing the pad before scrabbling to her feet and picking up her dress. Pausing only long enough to slip it over her head and step into a pair of panties, she ran out barefoot to join her husband for breakfast.

The pad slid to the floor behind her, flipping open to the page she'd been working on. A half-formed face, barely more than a pair of eyes and the impression of lips, with the same phrase written a dozen times around it. 'Time to come home' … 'time to come home' … And one other word, something that had meant nothing, but had seemed so very important.

_Mara_.


	4. Chapter 4

Regan Tam watched her husband as the small ship took them further away from Osiris. He was studying more of the messages he'd received on his secure line, reading them through half a dozen times before deleting them, wiping them from the system. He didn't even know her eyes were on him.

She would never have believed that a time could come when she'd be running from her home, from everything she held important … from her _life_. Yet here she was. Just because he needed her.

Oh, it was more than that, she knew. There were her children to consider. If there was even one chance in a million that she'd be able to see them, talk to them, maybe even hug them again … It didn't matter to her one bit that genetically they weren't hers. As she'd said to Gabriel, she carried them both for nine months, and as far as she was concerned that made her their mother.

With an ache in her heart she remembered the last time she'd spoken to Simon. He'd been heading out somewhere, his coat pulled up around his ears, looking somewhat furtive. She hadn't asked where he was going, hadn't made it her business to find out. She and Gabriel were on their way to a dinner party at the Friedlichs, and she was afraid they were going to be late. All she'd said was, "See you later, dear."

"Yes, mother." His last two words to her.

What if she had? If she'd put her hand on his arm and stopped him, asked where he was off to. Would he have said? Explained he was going to a blackout zone to try and get information on his sister? Doubtful, she admitted to herself. Not from any false sense of keeping his parents safe, but simply because he'd got so good at hiding things beneath that impassive face of his.

And when they were called, interrupted at the dinner table, she thought she was going to die from the mortification. Her son, bound by law. Gabriel had, of course, sorted things out, paid off where he needed to, but the embarrassment still made her cheeks warm, even to this day.

Simon had been around the house for some time after, of course. She'd heard him banging about in his room, and River's, but not once did she go and ask if he was all right. He ate privately, spending all of his free time on the Cortex, and she didn't even notice that he wasn't dining with them. As long as he didn't talk that nonsense about his sister being … Only it wasn't nonsense. Even now she found it hard to believe that the Alliance would condone hurting children like that, torturing them. Torturing her child. Her River.

And yet. There was always the _and yet_. She knew Gabriel was telling the truth. She might not have taken Simon's word for it, declaring it was just stress, attempting to placate him with gentle words, talking of his career, his life, but when her husband said he believed, it cut her to the quick.

So here they were, heading for a small planet she would never have dreamed of visiting in a millennia. Just to make sure Gabriel took his medication, and ate properly, and got to bed at a reasonable hour …

Gabriel grunted slightly, going back and rereading a portion.

Of course it was just that.

She sighed and sat back, glancing out of the small window. She shuddered. All that nothingness.

* * *

"Okay," Mal said, once the breakfast plates were cleared. "Parth is coming up tomorrow, and our young doctor has devised us a plan he says is going to get us the replicator we need, while making sure I don't get shot."

"Sounds like a good idea," Freya said, her hand on his.

"I thought so."

"Is that even possible?" Hank asked. "I mean, it's kinda traditional. We go to steal something, Mal gets shot."

"I've been a lot better lately!" the captain protested, then smiled slightly. "But anything you walk away from is a bonus." He looked down the table. "Simon, you're up."

The young man nodded, marshalling his thoughts. "As you know, we need a ViroStim or one of its type to replicate the vaccines we got from Niska. Both of them. Without such supplies, we would be in danger of being exposed to the Pax, should Mal's concerns be correct."

"Weapons," Kaylee said, shivering a little.

"Yes. And we don't know what such exposure would do to River or Freya."

"That we don't," Mal added quietly, and glanced at his wife.

Simon saw River do the same with Jayne, and he wondered whether his sister had extracted a similar promise to the one Freya had made Mal give, to shoot her if she was exposed. Probably, since both women understood the darkness that was waiting to consume their family.

He hurried on, having to swallow the lump in his throat at the memory of handing that box to Sam. "So the replicator is our first priority." He was amazed he sounded so normal.

"And just how is this going to be achieved?" Zoe asked, her eyebrow raised in enquiry.

"We're going to walk out with it."

"Walk out."

"Yes," Simon confirmed.

"Without getting shot."

"No bullet wounds. Not even a graze."

"And how are you planning on pulling off this particular miracle?"

"Making the captain stay on board?" Hank put in, tempting fate and Mal's wrath.

"That's a distinct possibility," Simon deadpanned. "In fact, for this to work, it's really going to be up to Jayne."

"Jayne?"

"Me?" The big man sat forward.

"Well, you and Zoe, actually."

"I think you'd better explain," Mal suggested, for once not taking offence. He knew how much the humour was essential, otherwise they'd all be hiding in their bunks and refusing to come out.

"I've been checking the logs for the hospital on Parth," Simon went on, standing up so he could pace.

Mal suppressed a smile. He remembered the young man doing the self-same thing when he was explaining about the Ariel job, and while that hadn't exactly gone as planned, at least no-one had got shot. Almost put out an airlock, yes, but no actual bullet wounds. He felt eyes on him, and looked up to see River gazing at him as if she was reading his thoughts on the back of his brain.

_What did I say about peeking?_ He let the words form in his mind.

_He's not like that anymore,_ she admonished.

_Never said he was, albatross. And I didn't do it, did I?_

_Good man._

_Me or him?_

She smiled enigmatically.

Simon coughed discreetly from a position just to the right of Mal's shoulder. "Captain? Are you with us?"

"Just waiting on you to tell us about this marvel of yours."

"Hmmn. As I was saying, I've been doing some research on the Cortex – nothing that will link back to us, Mal," he added quickly, forestalling the inevitable.

"Just so long as it don't."

"The information I needed is a matter of public record." He tugged at his earlobe. "Anyone could get to it."

"What, even those of us who aren't criminal masterminds?" Zoe teased gently.

"Even you." He smiled and went on. "Alliance hospitals have their own maintenance departments, but once a year there is an inspection, making sure all the equipment is up to standard. The Parth City Hospital is due for one in four days."

Mal's lips lifted. "And you're thinking …"

"If we get there first, have the right ID, we can say we're early, do the inspection and announce the ViroStim is … non-functional or whatever, and take it out with us. Jayne will do the heavy lifting."

"What else is new?" the big man sighed.

"But the right IDs?" Kaylee sat forward. "Ain't they gonna be difficult to get?"

"Not in this case. Before we left Lazarus I spoke to Sam, and he –"

"Wait a minute," Mal interrupted, his gaze darkening. "You got him involved? When I expressly forbid any such thing?"

"Do you want this machine or not, Mal?" Simon wasn't going to be goaded. He knew what he was doing, and he was going to make sure his captain did too.

"You know damn well I do. But that ain't the point. If word got back that –"

"It won't."

"You can be sure of that, can you?"

"Mal, I looked at the problem from every angle. River took a run at it too." He glanced at his sister, who nodded. "There is no other way. Unless you want to go in all guns blazing. I mean, that might work. It has before. And if you got shot then you'd be in the right place for them to patch you up before the Alliance came to get you."

Freya could feel her husband about to make an angry retort, possibly even give in to his impulse to knock the young doctor into the middle of next week, and she squeezed his hand.

Mal pulled it away, turning on her. "It ain't gonna work, Frey," he said sharply. "Maybe he's right on the why, but not on the how. Our kids are on Lazarus. What if the fact that Sam helped us gets back?"

"It's something of a moot point," Freya said calmly, leaving her hand on the old wood. "It's already done."

"I know what moot means." He was getting angrier with every passing moment.

"I know you do." She tried to reach his mind, but his barriers were at full blast, radiating sharp points that bled into her. She licked her lips, feeling very alone. "But there's nothing you can do about it."

He glared at her. "And you think that makes it right?"

"Mal, Sam offered," Simon said.

"So?"

"His contact is … they're going to be the real thing, Mal."

"And you know for gorram sure he ain't gonna be telling no-one?"

"Yes."

Mal stood up, pushing his chair away from the table so it screeched on the floor. "You'd better be right, boy. 'Cause if you ain't and you put the kids in the line of fire …" He stopped, trying to control the temper about at its limit.

"I _am_ sorry for what I said, though," Simon added. "I shouldn't have let my sarcasm get the better of me. But it _is_ the only way."

Mal took a deep breath. "Maybe. But you've been planning this for a while, that's clear, and you should've come to me first 'fore speaking to Sam."

"So you could say no?"

"So I could find some other way of getting what we needed!" He shook his head in exasperation. "I'm a thief, doc. I know some pretty unscrupulous types, and for the right amount of money I could've got what we needed without putting the kids in danger."

Simon went the palest shade of pink. "I … didn't think of that."

"No, well you should."

Kaylee exchanged worried looks with Hank. What had been a light-hearted meal had turned into something ugly, full of tension. She spoke quietly. "Cap, Simon was only doing what he thought was right."

He looked at her, the concern apparent on her normally sunny face. "I know, _mei-mei_, but there are other things to think about here."

"Maybe you'd better let the doc finish what he was saying," Jayne put in unexpectedly. "Seeing as this argument ain't gonna be won."

"Are you standing up for me?" Simon asked, unable to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

"Don't get too used to it," Jayne advised. "Just saying."

Mal closed his eyes for a moment, trying to centre his emotions, then nodded. "Much as I hate to admit it, Jayne's right," he said, sitting down again. "But next time we plan to knock over a hospital, or any other kind of government facility, you come and tell me the details before you do anything, _dong mah_?"

Simon blinked. "Yes, Mal."

"Good." He reached out and found Freya's hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "Well, go on."

River relaxed, and she went back to studying her hands, wondering why she only seemed to have the two, when by all accounts she should have four.

* * *

_They didn't think. Nothing that went through their radiation-addled minds could be considered as thoughts. There was only the need to hunt. To kill. To take and own before feeling flesh part and blood spill down their throats._

_There'd been something in their brains, though. Something stopping them from fulfilling their purpose. Something crawling inside and making them wait._

_It was gone for the moment, but they knew, with what little was left of their intelligence, that it would be back. Insinuating itself. Making them howl in rage at their impotence._

_Still, as they turned their ship, corpses laced to the bow, they could feel the weakness bleeding off the nearby planet. Easy pickings. Closer in than they had ever been, taken there by the … whatever it was … Might as well make the most of it. Particularly as they hungered._

* * *

Freya couldn't sleep – bad dreams that drifted away as she tried to pin them down haunted her. Mal, on the other hand, was dead to the world, even when she got up and pulled on her pants, wrapping her brocade shawl around her top half, not even bothering with a shirt.

She padded barefoot to the ladder, opening the door above and climbing up. Mal shifted in bed, rolling onto her side, but didn't wake.

In the dining room Freya made herself a cup of tea and sat at the table, idly picking up a deck of cards. Within moments she was engrossed in a game of Patience.

"Red seven on black eight," Jayne said behind her.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Thanks." She moved the card.

"Can't sleep?" the big man asked, somewhat unnecessarily.

"No." Freya sighed and picked up her cup, but the tea had gone cold.

"Me neither. Get like that sometimes, when I've not had any."

"I know I'm going to regret this, but not had any what?"

"Action." Jayne took a bottle from the cupboard and two mugs. "Don't need to worry about the getting laid part. Riv sees to that." He grinned.

"Good to know," Freya murmured, trying to get the mental image she suddenly had out of her head.

"Although the truth is, not having Caleb in his crib … it feels odd."

"I know what you mean. Knowing that Ethan and Jesse aren't in the nursery, that I can't just go and look at them …" She sighed. "It hurts."

"Yeah."

Jayne sat down opposite her, pouring a shot of alcohol into each mug and sliding one across to her. "Here. It'll help more than that _shiong mao niao_."

"You're probably right."

She lifted the mug and they drank.

"That's better," the big man said, smacking his lips. "So how come Mal can sleep?"

"I … uh …"

"You sexed him into unconsciousness?" Jayne supplied, then he laughed as her skin flushed. "Hell, Frey, you ever gonna get over that prudish streak?"

"No," she said firmly, tugging her shawl around her. "I'm pretty sure it's here to stay."

"Prob'ly. Although I think that discussion at breakfast didn't help."

"Mal was right," Freya said, defending her husband.

"Oh, I ain't saying that. But it kinda took the shine off things, don't you think?"

"The shine?"

"Knowing there's gonna be some action."

"Jayne, I think there's going to be so much action before this is over, even you will be glad when it's done."

He smiled crookedly. "Take a lot to do that." He took down a mouthful of alcohol. "But things didn't really feel right 'til dinner."

"No, you're not wrong about that."

"When Kaylee got out that cake her Ma'd made."

Freya had to grin. "I'm surprised she'd managed to keep it a secret from everyone."

"Hell, River knew. But she told me if I touched it I wouldn't be touching her for the duration, so I had to be good." He stared into his mug. "She really can't bear folks to be unhappy, can she?"

"No. But that's our Kaylee." She held up her own mug.

"It sure is." They toasted the young mechanic and fell back into companionable silence.

"So do you ever get drunk?" Jayne asked finally. "I can't recall ever seeing you drunk. Least, not when I was sober enough to remember."

"Occasionally."

"You a happy drunk or a miserable one?"

"Middling. Sometimes I even get belligerent. But mostly I just smile a lot."

"Wanna get drunk now?"

"Sounds … inviting, but I think I'll pass."

"Ok. Your loss. But next planetside, you and me, we go and get out of our minds."

"How can I refuse such a gracious invitation?" Freya smiled and held out her mug for a refill.

Jayne grinned and poured. "So how about a game instead?" He tapped the cards.

"Sure. Just not strip anything."

"That ain't fair."

* * *

Mal kicked the table and Freya woke up. At least, she managed to pry her eyes open. "Something you want to tell me?" he asked, looking down at her.

Freya looked around. She was on the sofa in the alcove, covered by her shawl. She sat up, grabbing at the brocade to stop it falling off and uncovering her.

"Aw, hell, Mal, nothing happened." Jayne, at the other end of the sofa, stood up, pushing Freya's feet, which had been in his lap, to the floor. "Like it ever would."

"Really? You want to corroborate that fact?" Mal asked Freya.

Freya nodded. "Apart from the fact that Jayne now has to give me all his money for the next three jobs, it's true."

"What?" Mal looked lost.

"We played cards. I won."

"I still don't see how you could win all the time without cheating," Jayne complained, scratching his face and emerging stubble around his goatee.

"Because she's good," Mal pointed out. "And you should know better than to play her."

"Yeah, well, I do now. 'N' I thought it was only Hank was good at fleecin' folks." Jayne wandered off towards the shuttle, wondering whether River had noticed he'd been out all night.

"What time is it?" Freya asked.

"Nearly time for breakfast. Good job I came through first – hate to think what the rest of the crew would have thought. Especially of you laying there like that." He fingered the shawl.

"I fell asleep."

"Out here."

She looked up at him, then glanced at the table. "Well, we were drinking …"

"Drinking and playing cards." Mal shook his head and crossed his arms. "You're sure there's nothing I need to know?"

"Absolutely positive."

"Good. I had a notion you had more taste than that." He smiled, and sat down next to her. "Couldn't sleep again?"

Freya nodded. "Bad dreams."

"You should've woken me. I'd've helped."

"I know. But you looked so peaceful. And you needed it."

"Hmn." He put his hand on her thigh. "Can't remember what they were?"

"Nope. Just that I didn't want to go back to them."

"You should speak to Simon. He could give you something to help, maybe get you to understand 'em."

"Perhaps."

"Don't go thinking that was a suggestion."

"No, sir, captain." She stood up quickly, saluting, the shawl falling from her skin. "Mind if I go and get dressed now?" Her flesh jiggled delightfully.

"I don't know about that. I was just admiring the view." He reached out to touch her, but she backed away, turning to walk towards the bunks, holding the shawl to cover her breasts.

"Frey, is Mal – whoa." Hank took a step back at the sight of a half-naked woman wandering Serenity's corridors.

"In there." Freya nodded over her shoulder, climbing down the ladder into her and Mal's bunk, and letting the shawl slip from her skin, her flame bright.

"Right." He stood still a moment, then hurried through to the dining area. "Mal, we're about three hours out from Parth. I need to know where you want me to park, 'cause if it's not in the Port we're soon gonna be on their radar."

Mal turned from the cupboard where he was removing a mug. "Any activity in that asteroid belt we'll be passing?"

"None that I can see."

"How long 'til we reach it?" Mal poured a cup of coffee.

"Couple of hours, bit more. We can keep it between us and the planet, make it easier." Hank kept glancing back over his shoulder. "Though I've had to reduce our speed because of the traffic around here."

"Then we'll hide there, use the shuttle to move in. Set a course."

"No problem." Hank paused. "That was Freya half naked out there, wasn't it?"

Mal sipped his coffee. "You were hallucinating, Hank."

"Right. Have to watch that."

"Yeah. Not good for you." Mal smiled at him and walked past back towards the bunks. "Zoe wouldn't like it."

"I'm married, Mal," Hank's voice followed him. "Not dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Captain Bennett was somewhat annoyed, to say the least. First of all his regular supply route had been disrupted and he'd been ordered to an obscure moon to pick up … something, and now there had been a fight amongst his crew.

"So what started it?" he asked, staring at the five men, each sporting an assortment of cut lips, black eyes and other injuries. "Well?"

None of them seemed inclined to admit responsibility. Bennett looked at his first mate, standing to one side, his arms crossed.

"I don't know, sir. Everything was fine, the meal was finished, and it … erupted." Tyzack seemed almost apologetic.

Bennett sighed. "Someone must have thrown the first punch." He glanced at the smallest of the men, a split above his eye still bleeding slightly. "Hannigan. You don't usually get into trouble. You must have noticed who started it."

"No, sir," Hannigan said, trying to stand more or less to attention, but failing miserably because his ribs hurt like hell.

"How about you, Rykel?" Bennett tried the opposite end of the spectrum, looking up into the face of the largest of his crew, who didn't appear to have any facial injuries himself, but whose knuckles suggested he had been the cause of some.

"No, sir," the big man rumbled, almost making the decking vibrate.

"If no-one admits being responsible, I'll have no alternative, you do realise that?" Bennett scanned his crew irritably.

"Yes, sir." Hannigan spoke for them all.

Bennett didn't speak for a long minute, just glowering at his men, then he sat forward, picking up his pen. "Fine. You will each be docked one week's pay."

"But Captain -" Rykel began.

"Care to make it a month's?" He glared at them. "I won't have brawling on my vessel. And I will make an example of each and every one of you if it happens again, do you understand?"

There was various noddings and mutters of acceptance, then they filed out.

"And get to the infirmary. I'm not having any of you reporting sick because of this." Tyzack closed the door behind them. "I'm sorry, Greg," he said quietly. "I honestly don't know what's got into them."

"I do. They don't like our passengers, and I can't say I disagree."

"It's just … there's an atmosphere, and you know how it goes. One little word out of place and we have a major fight on our hands."

"Oh, I know that, Terry." He got up and opened the drawer to the filing cabinet, taking out a bottle of Saki and two glasses. "And if I had my way I'd put them off on the nearest moon. Or better yet, not taken them on board at all. But they're here, and we have to obey orders." If he could have spat the words, he would have. Pouring two slugs, he handed one to Tyzack and sat back down. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

They sipped companionably.

"Talking of our passengers, did they see anything of this?" Bennett asked, feeling the alcohol warming his belly.

"No. They've been sticking pretty much to their bunks, even for food."

"Better they stay there. Keep them out of my way." Bennett stared into his drink, wondering vaguely at the animosity he was feeling, something not exactly usual for him, just like his crew brawling.

"Just a few more days," Tyzack said consolingly, swigging back the last of his saki. He stood up. "Then they'll be out of our hair for good." He smiled and walked out.

Bennett didn't move, just staring into the middle distance. It wasn't just the passengers themselves, although when they'd come on board they'd looked down their noses at him and his crew. No, it was the box they had with them. He might only be the captain of a supply freighter, but he knew a cryo container when he saw one. 395MT, it said in stencilled letters on the side. Not that it was any of his business, but he was sorely tempted to go and take a look inside, see who it was they were so damn determined to hide from him.

But that would mean having it reported to his bosses at the Blue Sun Corporation, and then he'd probably lose his licence, and without that he'd not be able to do more than scrape a living on the Rim. No, better he leave it all as it was.

He lifted his glass, but suddenly knew it would taste like dust in his mouth. Climbing tiredly to his feet, he crossed his office to the small bathroom to splash water on his face, and pour the remains of the clear liquid down the drain.

_

* * *

_

Meat. Fresh and bloody, raw and still alive. It made it hard to concentrate, just the anticipation, but what held them together was enough, held them loosely knit but capable of running their ship. Of course, occasionally they would turn on each other, just for sport, biting and gouging until there was nothing left but a few bloody rags of skin and a few gnawed bones. But that was when they were bored, which wasn't often, as there was always someone around to eat. And they could just feel the pulses getting stronger with every mile of space they moved through.

* * *

Jayne was cleaning his guns, making sure they were ready to go at a moment's notice, even if he couldn't do more than carry a small concealed weapon on the job coming up. Putting Boo to one side, he was about to pick up Betsey when he heard a small cry and a clatter. Getting to his feet he went out onto the catwalk and looked over.

"What the …" He jumped down the metal staircase to the cargo bay floor, gathering River into his arms. "What happened?"

"I fell," she said, her hand to her head.

"You?"

"It can happen."

"Not to you it don't," he said, lifting her up. "You ain't never fallen that I can recall."

"I had too many legs."

"What?" Hefting her small weight easily, he carried her towards the infirmary. "Doc! Get your _pigu_ in here and see to your sis!" he called.

Simon hurried out from the lower crew quarters. "What happened?"

"I fell," River said succinctly, letting Jayne lay her tenderly on the medbed. "I just fell."

"Did you lose consciousness?" Simon pulled her hand away, examining the area with gentle fingers.

"No."

"No," Jayne confirmed. "I was right there 'mmediately it happened."

"I only slipped," River said, feeling embarrassed and letting the annoyance wash through her. "Still the same things in the dark," she added, somewhat cryptically. "It's just the absence of light."

"What?" Simon asked, staring at her.

"She said she had too many legs," Jayne said.

"River?" He looked into her eyes in surprise. "Did you?"

She gazed down at her hands. "Maybe."

Mal stuck his head in the doorway. "What's all the ruckus?"

"River hurt herself," Simon explained, looking up reluctantly. "I don't think anything's broken, but I need to take a scan to be sure. She's certainly going to have a bruise the size of an egg on her temple."

"She's still here," River muttered. "Just too many legs."

"What?"

"You okay, albatross?" Mal asked, stepping inside and looking at her with concern.

"I only fell. Everyone falls," River explained, fairly patiently. "I don't need a scan."

"River, I think you ought to let your bro be the judge of that, seeing as he's the doctor." Mal smiled softly at her, but it didn't have the desired effect.

"I'm not one of your children!" she said tightly, swinging her legs off the bed and standing up before anyone could stop her. "Just because they're not here. I don't need to be coddled!"

She ran out of the infirmary, neatly sidestepping Mal, and jumped lightly up the steps to the cargo bay.

"Riv!" Jayne went to follow her, but Mal's hand in the centre of his chest made him pause.

"You go make sure she's okay, then join us in the kitchen," he ordered. "We need to go over the last details of Simon's plan, but I think we ought to talk about River too."

"She just fell."

"Yeah, I got that. Just go check she's okay and not likely to be trying to take off from my ship 'cause there's too many legs on board."

Jayne glared at him, but just nodded and hurried out of the infirmary.

_

* * *

_

The ship moved parallel, just out of sensor range, at least for normal ships. Although this was anything but normal. Corpses were lashed to the hull, and bits that were never meant to be seen were open to the vacuum of space. Red paint – at least it looked like paint – made it appear that the nose of the ship was on fire, and the giant magnetic grappler attached to the starboard extender made it look ungainly, out of proportion.

_Not that anyone cared what it looked like, except to terrorise._

* * *

Jayne didn't usually mind if he was the centre of attention. There had been times in the past when everyone had looked at him as if he was something someone had walked in on their shoes when he'd made some inappropriate comment at the dinner table. He didn't do that anymore. Well, not so much. But this time he felt more than a little uncomfortable.

"She really said she had too many legs?" Zoe asked, concern on her beautiful dark features.

"That she did." Jayne looked around as if checking no-one else was listening. "She's said a few odd things these last coupla days."

Kaylee leaned forward in her chair. "Like what?"

"And more importantly, why didn't you say?" Mal asked pointedly. "If she's seeing something –"

"A'course she is, Mal! She's seeing the trouble we're heading into!" Jayne said, throwing his hands into the air, his temper flaring.

"There's no point in anyone getting angry," Freya said quietly.

"Yeah. Sorry," Jayne said. "Don't know what's got into me."

"We're all on edge."

"Yeah."

Mal coughed to get their attention again. "I meant specifically."

Jayne took a deep breath. "Crazy stuff. Like she used to talk. About mirrors and shadows or some such. And coming home. She was talking in her sleep this morning, and she kept saying something about someone coming home."

"Did she say who?"

"No. And if she did, I didn't understand. She was just mumbling, and I thought she was only dreaming."

Mal exchanged a look with Freya, who shook her head. She hadn't been able to remember her dreams either, only a feeling of foreboding that was probably at the task they'd set themselves.

"I can talk to her," she offered. "See if we can't piece things together from what we feel."

"Be good," he said. "Especially if something I don't know about is out there."

"I kinda ignore all the things I don't know about," Hank put in conversationally. "If I don't know about it, I don't worry."

"Well, normally I'd agree with you," Mal responded. "But right now I tend to have to think about the things I don't know about so they don't get my pilot killed."

"Ah. Yes, well, when you put it like that …"

"It could be the bump on the head," Simon said slowly. "It would disorient anyone, but with River -"

"She was talking about things 'fore that, doc," Jayne interrupted.

"I suppose. The trouble is, there is no normal baseline for my sister. She still has bad days, even though she is so much better now than I could ever have dreamed. But I can't say what might have affected her without doing some tests."

"Like they worked before."

Mal was about to jump in, stop the argument before it began, but Simon surprised him.

"No, you're right. No matter what I did I couldn't help her. I couldn't stop the nightmares, lashing out at people with knives, the hiding for days, the paranoia eating at her … but you could."

Jayne's eyebrows raised. "A lot of it was Miranda," he pointed out. "Getting out that stuff she'd read."

"Oh, yes, and I'm not attempting to suggest otherwise. But without you I don't think she'd be any better than that."

The big man didn't quite know how to take the compliment. "Um, thanks," he muttered, his ears going the very palest shade of pink.

"Well, as long as we've finished this mutual appreciation society, I'd kinda like to get back to business," Mal said dryly.

"Sorry, Mal." Simon sat back, feeling Kaylee's hand creep into his.

"Truth is, she ain't the only one who's antsy. I feel like I'm waiting for the other boot to drop, and it's not conducive to my calm."

"Do you want to try another planet?" Zoe asked.

"No. But I'm more'n a little concerned about using the shuttle on its own. If something happens, we'd be too far away to do anything to help."

"What do you suggest?" Simon spoke. "The hospital isn't going to let a Firefly land, let alone take an expensive piece of equipment on board, no matter how good our paperwork."

"No, we'll be using the shuttle for that. But I want Serenity down someplace close. Not the port. All too easy to get landlocked if we do that. But out in the countryside." He looked at Hank. "Can you find somewhere?"

Hank nodded slowly. "Probably."

Kaylee bit her lip thoughtfully. "Cap, what time's it planetside?"

Mal had no idea so looked at Hank for guidance.

"Daybreak," the pilot confirmed. "We've still got to pick up the IDs and some work clothes, but I figure we'll be ready for the main event come sundown."

"You got an idea, little Kaylee?" Mal asked, his gaze soft on his mechanic.

"Only that … last time we came here, I seem to recall some big parks in the centre of town. Huge places, full of grass and trees. I took Bethie for a walk in one, while we were waiting for you to do business. Couldn't we … land there? I mean, after dark, when most folks have gone to bed, so there ain't anyone watching?"

Mal smiled. "That's a damn good idea, Kaylee," he said approvingly, and was warmed by the grin he received in return. After what had happened with Niska, there had been times he wasn't sure he was ever going to get his _mei-mei_ back the way she used to be, but visiting her folks had changed a lot of things. But it was still nice to be able to make her smile like that.

Simon squeezed her hand. "Actually, it is. If we wait until nightfall, there should be less people around the hospital, too, and that means less likelihood of being discovered to be fakes." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Good thinking, _bao bei_."

She blushed, basking in the praise. "Maybe I should be planning the heists from now on," she joked.

"Sounds like a good idea," Jayne agreed. "Might stop Mal getting shot."

The captain ignored him. "Okay. Zoe, Jayne, you take the shuttle down and get the stuff we need." He looked at Simon. "How long do these inspections normally take?"

The young doctor shrugged. "Hours, probably. And we can't go straight for the Viro-Stim. That would be too obvious."

"I have a list of things we should look at first, sir," Zoe said. "Simon's gone over it with me."

"Good, good. Then we'll land in one of the parks about one in the a.m., local time. As long as you ain't too long, we shouldn't attract too much attention. But I think you'd better take a pilot. If the pair of you are busy thieving, we need someone to be keep the shuttle ready to go. I can –"

"I'll go," Freya offered unexpectedly.

"Good idea," Simon added.

"What?" Mal turned to his wife. "I didn't actually mean –"

"I know. I want to." She smiled at him.

"But what about River? You were going to talk to her."

"I know, but on second thoughts I think Kaylee might be better. At least for the time being. If I try and get her to open up on what's worrying her, she might close down entirely. Kaylee can sit with her, make sure she doesn't come to any harm."

"I can do that, Cap," the young woman agreed.

"Well, I –"

"I don't know, Mal," Jayne said, shaking his head. "I don't like the idea of leaving Riv alone like this. Not when she's having a bad day."

Mal sighed. "I know, but it looks like I've been outvoted. This once." He looked at Freya. "But you be careful."

"I will."

_

* * *

_

_Closer. Closer. They could almost smell the humanity._

* * *

Freya had settled into the shuttle, the start-up sequence going smoothly. Zoe was already seated, having been told in no uncertain terms by her husband that if anything went wrong she was to run like hell and damn the machine. She'd shut him up with a kiss that still lingered on her lips.

"You're gonna look after her?" Jayne asked, glancing towards the common area. He didn't need to look to know River was just inside the doorway, leaning on the bulkhead.

"You know it." Mal crossed his arms.

"And if this all goes pear-shaped? If the IDs don't work? You got a back-up plan?"

"Guns blazing, Jayne."

The big man glared, then grinned. "Yeah, figured as much."

"Just keep an open channel so we can hear what's going on," Mal reminded him. "And don't forget you've got _my_ wife with you, so I'd be obliged if you could keep an eye on her for me."

"I'll keep her outta trouble." Jayne nodded, then ran up the stairs two at a time to shuttle one.

"Explain to me once again how come I'm not part of this grand plan of yours," Mal said to Simon, as if in idle conversation.

"You were tortured, Mal. And I still can't be sure if that Quicksilver did any long term damage."

"But I'm healed, doc." He didn't mention the occasional twinges he felt. "And Jayne had his hands broken, but I don't see you making him stay behind."

"The bones have mended well, and very quickly. I'd wonder if he wasn't related to Freya if I didn't know he had the constitution of an ox."

"That ain't the point." He felt the shuttle disengage. "You let Frey go."

"She insisted."

"So you let her persuade you and not me. Your captain."

"Mal, don't try that _hard done by_ tone with me. It's my plan, and I get the final word."

Mal glared at the younger man, but it slid off his shell. He was actually impressed, but not about to mention it. Instead he strode away up the stairs towards the bridge, where he knew he was going to be ensconced for the foreseeable future. "You'd better be right about this, doctor."


	6. Chapter 6

"I was twenty," Breed said, sitting back in his chair and smiling in remembrance. "She was a year younger than me but she'd been on board the old Lancaster for almost two years already, doing whatever was needed."

"Why do I find the idea of the phrase 'whatever was needed' somewhat daunting?" Alex asked, nursing his brandy.

They'd just enjoyed a rather good dinner, and he and Breed had gone to wait for Dillon who had been called to an urgent wave. The windows in the drawing room of the summer estate house were open, letting in cool Persephone air that was delicately perfumed with the scent of nightshade and twilight roses.

Breed managed to look innocent, running his hand through his short, black hair. "I gather she hasn't told you about the things she got up to?"

"She doesn't tell me what she's doing now, let alone before." Alex shook his head somewhat ruefully. "If truth be told, we haven't really spent enough time together to be comfortable. A few days in twenty odd years … well, it isn't sufficient."

"Yes, it is strange to think that I've had more time with her since she was a child than you have."

Alex sipped his brandy. "Actually, I am curious as to why you were on that ship in the first place. You don't seem the type."

"Type?"

"You're well-bred, possibly even Core." As soon as he'd said it, Alex wondered if he hadn't overstepped some boundary or other.

Luckily Breed laughed. "Core, yes. Well-bred … that's another matter. The former is probably why Frey and I became friends in the first place, or at least why we gravitated towards one another. But I hope we've _stayed_ friends because we like each other."

"Oh, I think that's the case." Alex grinned. "So what was she –"

Any further conversation was disrupted by Dillon throwing the door open and storming into the room.

"_Cao ni zuzong shi ba dai_!" he swore, dropping into one of the other armchairs with all the grace of a leaden weight.

"Problems?" Breed asked quietly. He knew his lover, and that kind of swearing meant Dillon was more than aggravated.

"Emerson just got back to me. He's got some information I really need to pass on to Mal, but …" He leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped in front of him. "I can't wave him, I can't get anyone to pass on a message …" He looked intensely annoyed. "How the _diyu_ am I supposed to contact that stupid _hwoon dahn_?"

"Well, there is one option," Alex said slowly. "If what you've found out is really important."

"I think it is." Dillon's lips twitched. "But are you willing? I mean, if what we suspect is true, it could be seriously dangerous."

Alex gazed at him steadily. "Dillon, it's my sister out there. My brother-in-law. My _family_." He stressed the last word. "I walked into the lion's den before for them. What makes you think I won't again?"

For a moment Dillon didn't answer, then, "There really must be something in the water on Osiris to turn out a pair like you two," he said finally, relaxing just a shade. "Your ship?"

"She can ready to go in a couple of hours. Just need to make sure she's fuelled and got enough supplies to last us a while." He paused. "Do you have any idea where to begin looking?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Not until we're on board." Dillon glanced around the room. "I'm not saying we're bugged, but nowadays I don't want to take the chance."

Alex got to his feet, placing his brandy glass carefully on the table. "Then I'll make sure we're carrying as much as we can." He strode out of the room, purpose in his step.

Breed looked at his lover. "I take it this is really important," he said softly.

"I think so."

"Then don't tell me. Just in case. We can talk on the voyage."

Dillon's eyebrows raised. "You're coming with me?"

"Of course." He slid to his knees and crossed the small distance between them, resting his chin on the other man's bent leg. "One, I'm not letting you go without me again. Two, I'm damn good with a gun, as you well know –"

"I know," Dillon said, running his fingers lightly across Breed's cheek.

"Good. Three, Freya is my oldest friend. And four … I'm not letting you go without me again."

"You already said that."

"I mean it double."

Dillon sighed. "If you get hurt –"

"You just told Alex this is going to be dangerous. I understand that. And I'm prepared for it. I'm not a hot-house flower, you know."

"Breed, darling, I have never considered you to be anything other than you are."

"And what's that?"

In response Dillon leaned over and kissed him gently. "You're mine," he whispered.

* * *

Zoe looked up at the bulk of the hospital, lit windows illuminating it against the night sky, and adjusted her uniform a little. It was really an inch too short in the body, but if she didn't do a lot of bending she should be okay.

"How's reception?" she asked, apparently into thin air.

"_Good," _Hank said tinnily in her ear.

"_Me too,"_ Freya echoed.

"Good."

Jayne strode up behind her. "We ready?" he asked, his deep voice low in the still air.

"Ready." She led the way into the hospital, her clipboard held in front of her breasts like a shield. She strode up to the desk, Jayne at her back like a shadow.

"Yes?" the attendant behind asked, not even bothering to look up from her screen.

Zoe dropped the two IDs onto the desk in front of her, praying they were as good as the man they collected them from had promised. "Annual Alliance maintenance survey," she said succinctly. "Please inform your manager that we're here."

The woman looked up in surprise. "But you're not due for –"

"Of course not," Zoe snapped back. "But if we always came when we were due, it would give you far too much opportunity to paper over the cracks, wouldn't it?"

"There are no –"

"Well, that's for me to find out, isn't it?" Her voice had lowered a tone, and there was ice in it.

"Yes, I …" The woman attempted to regain her poise. "If you wouldn't mind just waiting here …" She hurried away down the corridor, leaving her colleagues to stare openly at the newcomers.

"I think you scared her," Jayne murmured. "Hell, you scared me."

"_Yeah, but that's 'cause you're a pussycat,"_ Hank said in both their ears.

Zoe saw the look on the ex-mercenary's face. "Hubby."

"_Yes?"_

"Don't rile the big man," she muttered. "He doesn't like it."

The woman came back accompanied by a man in a navy suit which he was hurriedly buttoning. "I'm Doctor Naylor, the hospital administrator," he said. "And you are …?"

"Here to inspect your equipment," Zoe finished, flashing her ID again. "Unless you're not prepared, and I have to file a report stating that -"

"No, no, of course we're ready," Naylor interrupted hurriedly. "I wouldn't want to … that is, I mean to say …" He took a deep breath, aware he wasn't giving a very good impression of himself. "What would you like to see first?"

Zoe glanced down at her clipboard, mentally thanking any convenient deity that scaring folks a little made them that much more pliable. "The Holoimager."

Naylor nodded. "Of course. Of course. This way."

* * *

"Full run!" Kaylee announced, laying down her cards and grinning widely.

River stared at them, then at her own hand, and sighed. "You win," she murmured. "Again."

Kaylee gathered up the cards, and looked at her friend, her own good humour dimming a little. "What is it, sweetie? Are you upset because you haven't been able to beat me today? I mean, I know that ain't usual, so … Look, we can always play something else. Jacks, maybe. Or … or Double Clock, or …" She watched River glance towards her sketch pad. "Or maybe you could just show me what you've been drawing."

The young woman looked up guiltily. "Drawing?"

"You keep looking at it. I just thought there might be something you wanted me to see."

"No." River licked her lips. "And I'm sorry. I'm not good company."

"You're worried about Jayne, I know that." Kaylee patted her friend on the hand. "But he'll be fine. Simon worked out this plan, and it's gonna be easy as pie."

"Simon is _jing tsai_ at planning," River admitted, a smile beginning to form on her lips. "Just not so brilliant at not putting his foot in his mouth."

Kaylee laughed. "He's getting better at that."

"Still a boob."

"Yeah, but he's my boob."

River nodded. "But I _am_ sorry. I feel … odd."

They hadn't talked about what had happened, skirting carefully around the issue of the number of legs a person should have as much as possible, but now Kaylee felt the opening was there, waiting.

"How … odd?" she asked. "Like it ain't just you?"

River was surprised at the insight. "Yes. More than me. Double. Mirror image."

"You ain't pregnant again, are you?" Kaylee touched her own belly, the intense feeling of joy that she experienced every time she thought of the new life inside her body warming her through.

River smiled slightly at the overflow reaching her, but said, "I don't think so."

"You could always get Simon to check."

"But I knew last time. Felt … divided."

"Like now?"

"No. This is different." River tried to put it into words. "Not part of me. More like … another me."

"I don't think I see the difference," Kaylee admitted.

"Like the sun is a double helix, an electron pair split and half a universe apart …" River stopped, all too keenly aware of the confused look on Kaylee's face. She sighed again, then lifted her head as the note of Serenity's engine changed. "We're landing," she said.

"See?" Kaylee said, relaxing somewhat. "Jayne'll soon be back on board, then Frey and you can go do whatever it is you do to make you feel better again."

"Perhaps." River managed a smile, then it widened as Kaylee's stomach rumbled loudly.

The young mechanic laughed, looking down. "I guess I'm hungry."

River leaped to her feet. "Food for the baby!" she said, the most genuine grin she'd had for a while breaking across her face. "I'll make something!" She picked up her sketchpad and ran out.

"No, look, I didn't mean -" Kaylee followed her.

"No chillies," the young woman promised, heading for the galley.

* * *

Up on the bridge Mal was watching Hank bring them in to land in the park, exactly as Kaylee had suggested. She'd been right - it was huge, so big that they could only just see the dim lights of civilisation around the edge.

As Hank cut the engines, he said conversationally, "It ever occur to you to wonder why most of these planets have the same name as the major city?"

"Not really."

"I mean, this is Parth, and out there's Parth City. There's Ariel, and Ariel City, then there's -"

"Hank."

"What?" He turned to look at his captain.

"I know you like to talk when you get nervous, but you're not helping."

"Did I say I was nervous?"

"You're sweating."

"It's warm in here."

Mal crossed his arms. "Right."

"No, really. I was thinking of getting Kaylee to check the environmental controls, because I'm sure the temperature's gone up in the past few days, 'cause I know it's not -"

"It's okay to be worried," Mal interrupted again.

"Worried?" Hank shook his head. "I'm not worried."

"No? It's your wife out there."

"And yours," Hank pointed out.

"And I worry."

This time Hank's eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hair. "You do?"

"I just don't talk about it all the time."

"No, sorry. I get that." The pilot managed to smile. "I just feel … split, you know? Zoe out there, Ben on Lazarus … It just feels wrong."

"Yeah. But Inara's taking good care of the kids, you know that."

"Doesn't help, does it?"

"No," Mal agreed, wondering if his children were missing him as much as he missed them. "No, it doesn't."

_No_, he heard Freya echo mournfully in his mind.

* * *

Zoe stared at yet another piece of equipment and began to wish they'd gone with Mal's usual method of going in, armed to the teeth, and demanding they hand it across. Anything but this. Jayne had glazed over long since, just letting his natural tracking abilities take control, pretending that as long as he was patient he was going to be able to kill something at the end.

"And of course our technicians are more than capable of fixing anything minor, and we know we can call on the Alliance if something should need more extensive repairs." Naylor opened another door, leading the way through.

Zoe felt Jayne stiffen at her back as he recognised the machine sitting snugly against the wall.

"My God." She put enough shocked surprise into her voice that Naylor turned to stare at her.

"What? What is it?"

"The VS896 Mark II," she read off the side. "And it's still connected?"

"Why shouldn't it be?"

"Do you want your hospital closed down? Half your patients dying on you?" She walked up and began to ostensibly examine the equipment.

"It's just a ViroStim. We hardly ever use it, except in cases of emergency."

"Well, you're lucky. Damn lucky."

"Are you sure?" Naylor peered at the ViroStim. "It looks perfectly all right to me."

"If we'd known you had this model, we'd have come here first," Zoe said, not quite accusing him of anything, but making it plain that she thought it was his fault. "Haven't you been reading the bulletins?"

"Bulletins?" Naylor looked confused. "We don't get -"

"You don't receive them?" Zoe shook her head, glancing at Jayne. "Heads are going to roll for this."

"Sure are," the big man rumbled, and Naylor got the distinct impression he was the one going to do the beheading.

"So this is actually … dangerous?"

Zoe sighed, somewhat dramatically. "There have been instances of entire wards being infected."

"Infected? What with?"

She looked around. "I'm not actually allowed to say, but the vaccines that have been produced in these models can leave behind traces that combine and … well, you wouldn't want to see the effects."

Naylor swallowed, his imagination supplying in abundance what she hadn't said. "What … what should we do with it?"

"Disconnect it immediately. We'll take it with us."

"With you? But -"

"We can decontaminate it much more effectively ourselves back at headquarters, then dispose of it safely."

Naylor clicked his fingers three times, then again with more urgency, and a technician hurried forward. "Do as they say," he ordered.

"Yes sir." The technician gingerly began to disengage the power supply, trying to touch it as little as possible.

"You know, I haven't heard anything about any accidents," Naylor said, hands wringing in front of him. "And I'm sure I'd -"

"Do you honestly expect the Alliance to broadwave it?" Zoe asked in turn. "The number of deaths alone would have caused a panic."

"Oh. I see." He motioned to the technician to hurry up. "And … the rest of the inspection?"

She looked at him, her face impassive. "Dr Naylor, I'm choosing to believe that you did not receive the bulletins. I'm also giving you the benefit of the doubt that you didn't just ignore them. And I am hoping we caught this in time. I'm doing you a favour here by taking this off your hands."

"I … I understand that."

"And to that end I will recommend that your annual inspection is resumed in a few days." She glanced at Jayne. "It won't be us, and I suggest you treat the new inspectors as if we hadn't been here. For your own good."

"Of course."

"Sir." The tech had straightened up. "It's ready."

"Then get the lifter." Naylor was sharp, taking out his anxiety on his subordinate. "I shouldn't have to be telling you your job."

"No, sir." The man hurried out.

Zoe held out her clipboard and pen. "Now, if you'd just sign here, stating that we have your permission to take the malfunctioning equipment off your hands …"

"Sign?" Naylor almost squeaked.

"Of course. We wouldn't want you to be left high and dry, would we? Otherwise folks might think you allowed us to steal it."

He gulped air and grabbed the pen, signing his name in a large, somewhat shaky, flourish. "There."

Zoe allowed a smile to crack her face. "Then everything is in order." She put her arm around his shoulders. "Why don't you go back to your office? We'll take care of the rest of it."

"Yes, perhaps I … I do have a great deal of paperwork to be getting on with," Naylor agreed, backing away from her. "And I'll be looking into the matter of the bulletins, don't you worry. Of course, it is always possible that my secretary has neglected to pass them on to me." He tossed the Christian to the lions. "If that's the case then I will reprimand her severely."

Jayne reached out and flicked the pen from between his nerveless fingers. "You do that," he growled in his best intimidating manner.

"Yes. Yes." Naylor straightened his suit. "Just … carry on." He turned and almost fled down the corridor.

"I think he's going to change his underwear," Jayne said, his lips in a twisted grin.

"Just so long as we get what we came here for," Zoe responded, not intending to relax until they were back on board Serenity.

* * *

Kaylee watched River preparing a quick meal from various protein packs and some of her mother's home-baked bread. It had frozen really well, and made food that could have been sometimes bland seem like a feast.

River cut the bread carefully into even slices, spreading it sparingly with one of Mrs Boden's contributions, a tomato relish that lit fires in the belly. To do so she'd had to put down her pad, and Kaylee idly picked it up, flicking through the pages. She smiled at the images of the children, laughing and playing, but the pang of the emptiness of the ship without them gnawed at her a little. Then she turned to the last sketch.

"This it?" she asked softly. "What you didn't want no-one to see?"

River turned quickly, the knife in her hand. "It doesn't quantify." She reached for the pad, then realised and put the blade down. "Please."

"It's just a drawing," Kaylee said. "Won't hurt you."

"It's my dreams," she tried to explain. "What I see. But I don't understand it."

"Then maybe we can figure it out together." Kaylee held the pad at arm's length, her head slightly on one side. "Kinda looks like you," she admitted.

"I … suppose it does." River hadn't really thought about it, but as she looked over her sister-in-law's shoulder, she could see the resemblance.

"That why you've been talking about mirrors? You seeing yourself reflected somehow?"

River bit the inside of her thumb. "I don't think so."

"And who's Mara?" Kaylee put the pad onto the worktop. "I mean, it's a pretty name, n'all. Sounds familiar, though."

"Simon uses it sometimes," River said distantly, working on the skin. "When he has to go somewhere and not be a Tam."

"Oh, sure, that's right." Kaylee shook her head. "Simon Mara. I shoulda remembered." She chuckled slightly. "You think being pregnant again is gonna kill off what few brain cells I got left?"

"Too many to …" River's voice faded, her eyes staring beyond the bulkhead.

"Honey? Everything okay?" Kaylee sat up, concerned. "You need Simon?"

In response River sprang around the counter, running hard and silent for the bridge.

* * *

The tech manoeuvred the lifter through the door onto the landing pad, Jayne assisting where he could. The air was colder than before, and a chill breeze was beginning to blow.

"Be glad to get back inside," the man said, pushing it forward. "I could just do with a hot mug of …" His voice faded away as he saw the shuttle waiting. "Wait a minute. What's this?" he asked suspiciously.

"Our transport," Jayne explained, then walked into the lifter as it powered down. "Gorram it!" he muttered, having banged his knee on the support.

"This isn't an official shuttle." The tech looked from one to the other, edging backwards, away from them.

Freya leaned out of the doorway, the light behind her. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

"No, no problem," Zoe said, looking at the technician. "This one's a spare. Our usual's down for repairs."

"I think I'd better get Dr Naylor to check those details again." He reached for the emergency button.

Jayne grabbed his wrist. "Don't be making a nuisance of yourself," he said quietly.

The tech stared at him, then opened his mouth to yell for assistance.

"Hell," Zoe muttered, swinging her fist and catching him on the chin, knocking him off his feet so that only Jayne's grip stopped him from hitting the concrete. "Is he out?" she asked.

Jayne felt his pulse, then lowered him to the ground. "Well, he's alive, but he ain't getting up again anytime soon."

"Then we'd better move."

"_Zoe? You okay?"_ It was Mal's voice in their ears.

"We're fine, sir," Serenity's first mate said, activating the lifter. "Jayne."

The big man nodded, pushing it towards the shuttle's open doorway.

"We'll be with you in ten," Zoe went on.

"_Be glad to see you back."_

Using the lifter, they managed to get it on board, Freya helping where she could. Zoe leaped up next to her, and they manoeuvred it against the bulkhead.

"We'd better get going," she said, hearing Jayne clambering up. "We don't want to outstay our …" She realised he was still in the doorway. "What is it?" she asked.

"Can't you hear it?" Jayne was standing still, his ears straining to catch something on the edge of his hearing, something that made the short hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Freya hurried to the doorway, listening with him for the elusive sound. Then she reached out with her mind. "_Tzao gao_." She looked at him, her face drained of all colour.

* * *

River jumped up the steps and pushed Mal to the floor, knocking Hank out of the pilot's seat, slamming his head against the console. She was sorry, but there wasn't time to apologise. She had to get them into the air, ready.

Hank lay on the floor, barely able to focus. "River?" he slurred.

"No time. Explain later. Need to do this."

He felt Serenity lift off, her engines thrumming painfully as the young woman kept her low to the ground.

"What the hell's going on?" Mal demanded, scrambling to his feet.

"Reavers."


	7. Chapter 7

The proximity alarm dragged Bennett from his sleep, and he flipped onto his side, thumbing the com. "What is it?" he demanded.

"Incoming ship, sir," Tyzack said, fear making his voice tremble. "Looks like Reavers."

"_Cao_." He jumped from his bed, dragging his pants back on. "Can we run?"

"Trying, but they're still gaining."

"Blow out the damn engines if you have to, but get us away." He grabbed his gun. "And make sure everyone's armed."

"Yes, sir."

"How far are we from planetfall? Anywhere?"

"Closest is Highgate, but it's still hours out."

Bennett swallowed. "Then looks like we don't have any alternative." He dragged open his door and hurried towards the bridge.

* * *

Freya lifted the small ship into the air even as Jayne and Zoe were frantically strapping the ViroStim down. Already they could see figures dropping on lines from the ship overhead, some landing on the hospital itself, others on surrounding buildings. The sound of unearthly cries reached them through the open doorway.

"Jayne, get that closed," Zoe ordered.

The big man hurried to obey, but paused, leaning out. "Shit," he whispered, then shouted, "Frey - hard left!"

She didn't ask why, just yanked on the yoke, the shuttle's internal gravity having no chance to catch up, and tossing Zoe to the floor.

Something exploded to the right of them, the shuttle pushed up and away, and suddenly she was fighting the controls as the engine all but died. "Hang on," she yelled, trying to get enough thrust to level out, and knowing they had about a snowball's chance in hell of landing safely.

A building loomed in the darkness, and using all her strength she managed to force the shuttle to veer slightly, missing it by inches. But there, just beyond, was a small plaza, an open space that she might just be able to pancake the shuttle into, if they could only reach it.

"We're going down!"

Jayne grabbed hold of Zoe and wrapped his arm through one of the webbing nets on the wall, holding on with all his mighty strength. His last thought before the ground met them with an almighty crash was _River_.

* * *

"What?"

"Reavers," River whispered.

Mal gripped the back of the seat. "Where?"

"Here. In the city." She pointed to a dark shape hanging in the night sky. "Felt their anger, their rage. And they don't have many guns." The last wasn't about the Reavers, he knew that.

"Where are they?" He wasn't talking about the abominations either.

"Knocked down. Freya's trying to get the engines going, but I don't know if there's time." She didn't mention that she couldn't hear Jayne.

"Get us close enough to land."

"Too many buildings."

"Then low enough so we can repel down." He was already heading off the bridge. "Can Hank fly?"

She glanced at the pilot, still sitting on the deck, one hand to his head. "Not for this."

"Then you keep at the controls. I'll do this."

* * *

Freya tried various combinations, but nothing was working. Blinking hard to try and keep the blood running from the cut on her forehead from blinding her, she thumped the control yoke and forced herself to her feet.

"Zoe?" she called, peering into the dark interior.

"You land like that again and I'm telling Mal," the dark woman said, levering herself off the floor. "That was worse than Hank on one of his bad days."

"We're alive, though," Freya pointed out, her eyes adjusting. She could see Jayne hanging from the webbing, his eyes closed. Hurrying to his side she touched his neck, and he groaned.

"Rut it," he moaned. "You tryin' to kill us?"

"It doesn't look like I succeeded." Freya smiled slightly. "Nobody hurt bad?"

"Winded," Zoe admitted, bending over and trying to get more air into her lungs.

Jayne glared at her, his eyes the only thing reflecting the light as he untangled his arm. "I'm gonna hold judgement."

"You do that. I need to go outside."

"You can't," Zoe said quickly. "Not with what might be out there."

"I have to. I need to check out the shuttle."

"Then we'd better be armed," Jayne said, getting to his feet and swearing inventively as all the muscles across his shoulders complained mightily. "In back," he added. "I brought some guns."

"Good." Freya kicked an errant crate out of the way, then heaved another off the weapons box. Opening it, she smiled at what she saw. "Grenades?"

"You know I don't go nowhere without 'em."

"Glad you have." She pulled a rifle from the box and passed it to Zoe. "I need to take a look at the shuttle, see if we can get her going again."

"They'll be coming for us," the first mate said. "Serenity. They'll be coming."

"I know. I can feel them." She winced inwardly at the confusion she could feel from the crew still on board the Firefly. "But they can't land. We're going to have to fly out, or walk."

"Through Reavers?"

"Exactly."

Jayne reached past her and removed a shotgun and a box of shells. "I vote we fly."

"Then you'd better keep watch," Freya said, going to the doorway and looking out. So far there wasn't a sight of any Reavers, but she could hear gunfire intermittently from not that far away. "And we'd better hurry."

* * *

Kaylee had the bay door open, and a cable snaked down through the opening into the dark. Mal pulled on his gloves and looked at her.

"You tell River, she's to hightail it away as soon as I'm down, and not to come back until she knows the Reavers have gone."

"Cap –" Kaylee's face was white.

"They're okay, Frey's said, even though we can't get through on the com, but they might need help." He hefted the bag onto his shoulder.

"Then shouldn't we all –"

"You do as I say, _xaio_ _mei-mei. _I'll find the others and we'll hide 'til it's safe. But you have to leave. _Dong mah_?"

She swallowed, but said, "Yes, sir."

He nodded, placed a quick kiss on her cheek and grabbed hold of the cable. "Be back soon," he promised. Then he stepped to the edge and was gone. A minute later and she felt Serenity slide round and head away, and for one long moment Kaylee felt an intense anger as the psychic on the bridge. No way they should be leaving them. No way.

* * *

"Jayne, can you get that out?" Freya pointed to a fragment of shrapnel stuck in the shuttle's engine housing.

He climbed up, tugging on it. "Wedged," he said.

She looked around and found a piece of what looked suspiciously like landing strut. "Here. Try this." She handed it up to him.

Zoe stared into the darkness. "We don't have much time," she said softly. "They're getting closer."

"I don't know how long this is going to take," Freya admitted. "If we can even get things working again, take off … I don't know."

"Then I'd better see if I can figure out how long we've got." She raised her rifle slightly, then disappeared into the dark.

Jayne grunted, putting all his weight on the strut, and there was a squealing noise as the shrapnel sprung free. "Got it," he said, dropping lightly to the ground. "Where's Zoe?"

"Watching our backs."

"Maybe I should -" He picked up the shotgun.

Freya shook her head. "I need you here. Did it look like the electrics were fried?"

"Not that I could see. Only it ain't exactly a great place to be checking things, seeing as there's no light."

"No. Well, we'll just have to hope for the best." She tugged his arm. "Come on. We need to work inside."

* * *

Mal touched down, his knees absorbing the shock of the landing, and immediately let go of the cable. Glancing up, he imagined he could see Kaylee's face in the small square of light above, but the Firefly banked and moved quickly away into the dark.

_Good girl_, he thought as he drew his gun, knowing River would be listening.

_Not going far._

_Far enough_, he ordered. _I want my ship to be in one piece when I get back, not full of Reavers._

_Yes, father._

He couldn't help but smile as he settled the bag more solidly on his shoulder and jogged down the street, his coat barely keeping out the cold wind. She was never going to get over calling him that.

_Keep going in that direction_, she added. _They're close._

_Good. Now let me concentrate._

He got to a crossway and paused, checking each direction. So far he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Reavers, but he knew they must have seen Serenity hanging in the sky, and their curiosity was almost as insatiable as their hunger for flesh. They'd be coming soon.

A scream ripped through the air, seeming to come at him from all directions, ending in a bubbling sound that made his stomach roll. No time to be that careful, he decided, running ahead.

The lights went out. Just like that. One second there was illumination from various windows and occasional streetlights, then … nothing. They'd hit the power station, he realised. All the better to hunt in the dark.

If anything he speeded up, but it was his undoing. Even though his eyes rapidly adjusted, he didn't see the body until it was too late, and he fell over it, his hands coming up to break his fall, but it knocked the gun from his hand, the bag going with it. Taking a moment to gather his breath, he turned the figure over, hoping it wasn't someone he knew, but he didn't recognise the face, torn about as it was. What he did recognise, however, was that it was fresh. Very fresh. Probably the scream he'd heard …

Something barrelled into him, knocking him onto his back, and a Reaver reared up out of the darkness, skin peeled back from its forehead and cheeks, drooling as it launched itself at Mal. He tried to scrabble to his feet, but knew it was going to be too late, and he could smell the stench of its breath –

A gun blast at close range knocked the Reaver sideways, its head exploding.

Mal swallowed and looked at his saviour. "Thanks, Zoe."

"No problem, sir," she said, ratcheting another shell into the chamber. "I take it this is the rescue? All guns blazing?"

"Got it in one."

"Hmmn." She held out her hand and helped him up before picking up his gun and giving it back to him. She hooked the bag over her own shoulder. "Well, if you're all done with your little rest now, I suggest we get going."

"Shuttle?"

"Shuttle."

They ran, keeping low, now hearing the distinct sounds of Reavers tearing into the unprotected city, screams of agony mixing with those of terror as people tried to run and were cut down.

* * *

Bennett looked up as all the lights went out, then the emergency system kicked in and bathed everyone in blood red.

"What was that?" he asked hoarsely.

"EMP," Tyzack confirmed. "We've got nothing."

"Did you get the beacon sent?"

"Yes. But no-one's going to respond in time."

There was a clanking noise that they felt, rather than heard.

"I take it they've locked on." Bennett felt an odd calmness suffuse through him.

"Yes sir." Tyzack stared at his captain. "Escape pods?"

"They'll just pick us off one by one." He pulled the gun from the holster at his waist. "Get everyone together in the corridors outside the cargo bay. Maybe we can slow them down until someone gets here."

"Greg –"

Bennett shook his head. "Just tell the passengers to sit tight and we'll protect them as much as we can." He gave a smile. "I think it's time to take this fight to them, don't you?"

Tyzack swallowed and glanced around at the other bridge crew, who all appeared to be as terrified as he was. Still, if Bennett could face death, even one as bad as this was going to be, he could at least stand next to him. "Yes sir," he said.

* * *

The starlight was enough to see the shuttle sitting dead centre in the middle of the tiny plaza, and Mal had to smile. He didn't know another person, apart from maybe Wash, who could have pulled off landing like that, and he felt a swell of pride in his chest.

"Jayne," Zoe called out. "Don't shoot."

The big man leaned out of the open doorway. "Took your time, didn't you?" he asked.

"Am I hearing the stirrings of mutiny on my boat?" Mal asked, jogging to the shuttle and climbing in. "Here." He handed the other man the bag.

Jayne opened it quickly and grinned. "Vera," he said softly, lifting out the Callahan and checking her over. "And fully loaded."

"Figured you might be more at home with her in your hands."

If Jayne could purr, he would have.

"Jayne, get back to that board!" Freya said loudly. "Check the connections."

"Yes ma'am." He put the gun in easy reach and leaned back into the workings of the engine.

Mal crossed to the small bridge, seeing his wife's legs poking out from under the control console. "You okay?" he asked as she struggled into a sitting position.

"Mal, what the hell are you doing here?" Freya demanded, pushing the blood out of her eye.

"Rescuing you." He scanned the control panel. "What happened?"

"Not sure. We almost got hit by some kind of …" She glared at him. "Why aren't you back on Serenity?"

"I told you. This is the big rescue."

"So you get yourself in the same sorry mess that we are?" She was angry, not necessarily with him although he was the most convenient person to lash out at. "Really good plan, Mal."

He knew what she was doing, and was about to make a somewhat conciliatory reply when Zoe shouted from outside at the same time as they heard her rifle firing.

"We got company!"

"Jayne, lend a hand," Mal ordered, striding to the rear of the shuttle and taking the big man's place.

The ex-mercenary leaned out of the doorway, Vera held snugly against his shoulder, and took aim on one of the figures running towards them. He fired, and the figure fell, but its place was taken by two more. He let his instincts take over, not wasting a single bullet.

Mal pushed everything he could find back into place. _Try it now_, he thought, not sure whether she'd be able to hear him above the sound of gunfire and the occasional thud of a grenade as Jayne really got into the swing of things.

Freya slid back into the seat and ran the emergency start-up sequence, words tumbling past her lips but under her breath so that no-one could hear, praying softly.

There was a spark that made Mal jump back, and a groan from outside, then lights flashed across the panel.

"We got life!" she said in triumph.

"Zoe, get back in here!" Mal yelled even as he crossed the shuttle once more to the small bridge.

She didn't need a second urging. Firing her gun once more and seeing a Reaver topple from the edge of a building, she jumped through the doorway even as the shuttle lifted off, pulled inside by Jayne's sure hands.

* * *

They were in the cargo bay, Bennett knew, and he suspected that some of his men hadn't been able to keep them from entering the main corridors from the aft. He expected one of the damn things to pop up behind him at any time, but there was little he could do about it, except keep his gun in his hand.

A scream rent the air, and he wondered who it was, or who it had been. It ululated for a long time, then died quite suddenly, leaving the silence even more oppressive.

Then he heard it. Scrabbling, like rats in the ducting, only these were bigger than rats, and a hell of a lot more deadly.

It made up his mind for him, and he turned towards the passenger quarters. If nothing else he could stay with them, make sure they went cleanly, quickly, rather than end up as living meat packs on a Reaver ship.

The door wouldn't budge, and he slammed his fist into it. "Open up! It's Captain Bennett!"

"How do I know it's you?" Dr Petty's voice barely made it through the metal.

"You want me to come in there and shoot you to prove it?"

That perverse bit of logic had Petty opening the door a little, allowing Bennett to barrel his way inside.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, watching the half dozen technicians Petty had with him frantically pushing buttons on a control panel on the cryobox. "Stop that!" he ordered. "You need to arm yourselves."

"No, no, you don't understand," Petty said, gesturing towards the box. "If we can wake her up, if we can calibrate her quickly enough, she can –"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bennett pulled the spare pistol from his waist and thrust it into the scientist's hands. "Here. This is the only way we're going to get out of this alive."

"No, you don't … how can I explain it to you?" Petty had moved enough so that he was between the captain and the open door. "If you let us, I can save …" His eyes widened, glazing over.

"Dr Petty?"

The man fell forward, an axe in his back, dead before he hit the deck.

Bennett looked up into the eyes of a Reaver, and brought his gun up, firing twice into its chest. It jerked, but kept coming. _Armour_, he thought. _What self-respecting Reaver wears armour?_ He lifted the gun to aim at its head, but too late he saw another from the corner of his eye, and he was knocked flying into the corner of the room. As the his vision blurred, he thought he saw the Reavers finish off the technicians who had cowered in the corner, and grab the cryobox, but he was unconscious before he could be sure.

* * *

The shuttle was sluggish, but Freya managed to keep it on a fairly even keel by simple force of muscle. She knew she was going to hurt in the morning, but that was okay, as long as there was a morning to hurt in.

_River_, she thought strongly. _Where are you?_

_Coming. Having to keep out of their way._

A light flickered on the board in front of her. _We're almost out of options here. Power's going down again._ The shuttle bucked under her hands, and she had to grab at the control yoke again. _River …_

_Almost there._

The power dipped again, and suddenly Freya was fighting the controls. "Mal!" she yelled.

He ran to her side, helping her pull back to keep the shuttle from a nosedive that would have killed them all. "Where the _cao_ are they?" he muttered, sweat springing onto his brow.

_Here,_ they both heard, and the Firefly dropped down in front of them, the glow of her stern lighting the way. _Can you make it?_

"Barely," Freya said, feeling Mal's hands crushing hers on the yoke, not having the control to merely think the word. Still, she managed to drag the bow up a little. "You'll have to –"

_Now_.

Freya said a silent prayer and allowed the shuttle to drop. There was a noise like two rhinos fighting, then they were moving sideways, pulled into Serenity's side.

"Go, albatross!" Mal said, reinforcing it with his thoughts.

_Already gone, _she countered, and indeed the stars were slewing around, the fires started by the Reavers falling away behind them.

Mal dropped a hand on Freya's shoulder. "You okay?" he asked.

"Go," she said, flexing her fingers. "I'll be right behind you."

He nodded and turned, running through the open door and up towards the bridge.

Jayne stood up, rubbing his back. "I guess you were right," he said quietly. "I coulda done without this much action."

"I don't think it's over yet," Freya replied, following her husband.

* * *

As Mal reached the bridge, the sky had already turned black, with hard pinpricks of light. "They following?"

River shook her head. "No. Too much fresh meat down below to worry about us."

Hank was sitting in the co-pilot's chair, one hand still pressed to his temple. "That's gorram awful," he muttered. "They're dying, Mal."

He turned on his pilot. "What, you think we should have stayed? Fought?"

"No, but -"

"This wasn't a 'surgical strike', Hank. This was slaughter. No-one controlled this."

"But they've never hit so close in before."

"I know." Mal felt Freya and Zoe come up the steps behind him, and his anger left him as quickly as it had arrived. He leaned onto the back of River's chair. "But they're about the right distance from Greenleaf."

"You think it's the same ones, sir?" his first mate asked, keeping her voice low out of some measure of respect.

"I've got the notion it is."

Hank sat forward. "But why would -"

Mal sighed heavily. "Thing is, you let the genie out of the bottle, you're gonna find it hard to put him back."

"I don't understand."

Freya spoke softly. "If Greenleaf was done on purpose, controlled somehow, that brought the Reavers in." She closed the gap to stand next to Mal, not touching, just letting him know she was there. "But if that control was gone for any reason, there was nothing to stop them attacking here."

"You mean they …" Hank swallowed hard. "Damn it, they were innocent people."

Mal nodded sadly. "That they were. And we couldn't save them. Only just managed to save ourselves."

"Then why do I feel guilty?"

"I don't know. But I can tell you … you ain't the only one."

* * *

The Reaver stood in front of the cryobox, then with surprisingly gentle fingers he unlocked it, pulling the lever to open it. He pushed the lid off, staring down at the young woman held closely by the restraints inside. Her head lolled on her chest, dark hair falling lankly around her face. He lifted her chin to look at her more closely, noting her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She was going to be out for hours yet, which wasn't a bad thing. Best to keep her that way, too.

He let her go, watching her head drop back down. Reaching up to his own face, he felt for the edge, finding the ridge and getting his fingers under it. He tugged, and the entire mask pulled away from his skin, leaving tiny fragments of synthetiskin and adhesive stuck to his cheeks.

He stretched his jaw out, feeling the tendons popping, then smiled. "Welcome home, Mara," he said.


	8. Chapter 8

"Sit still."

"It's fine. Just a scratch. There's no need to – Ow!" Freya jerked her head back and glared at him.

Simon gave her his professional look, the one that said, very clearly, that she trying to tell him his job again, and who was the doctor here anyway? "If you don't let me deal with it now, it will scar."

She glanced down at her body, the tracery of pale lines hidden by her clothes. "So what else is new?"

"Don't be a _sha gua chun zi_."

Freya stared at him in mock horror. "Simon. I didn't know you knew words like that. You must've been hanging around Jayne too much."

He didn't answer her, just raised one eyebrow a millimetre.

"Better let him get to it," Mal said, leaning in the doorway. "He's gonna make my life hell 'til you do."

"_Your_ life?" Freya smiled slightly. "Then in which case …" She moved back in range so the young man could continue to examine the two inch cut in her hairline.

He palpated the area carefully. "What did you hit it with this time?"

"The console." She winced, and noticed Mal do the same in sympathy. "It leaped up and attacked me."

"Apart from the obvious, are you in any other discomfort?"

"Well, my arms ache, and I think we've all got bruises, but –"

"I mean specifically."

"Then no."

"Any double vision?"

"No."

"Yes." River stepped quietly around Mal's form.

Simon looked up. "What was that, _mei-mei_?"

"Double vision," the psychic explained. "Since it happened."

Mal straightened, his concern more palpable. "It is?" His gaze switched to his wife. "You are?"

"It's fine," Freya insisted. Then at his look she conceded, "Okay. But it's not that bad."

"You mean to say you managed to land the shuttle and you ain't even seeing properly?" Mal shook his head in disbelief.

"I compensated," River put in.

"Oh, thanks," Freya said witheringly. "I thought I managed it pretty well, actually."

River smiled.

"Frey, you need to tell me these things," Simon said, wiping the area with antiseptic. "It sounds like you have a slight concussion, but the point is I'm your doctor. You can tell me anything."

"Anything?" Freya tried to look innocent, or at least as much as she could as the cut stung fiercely. "Even about when Mal and I –"

"Yes." He peered closer at the wound, trying to ignore the slight blush that ran up his chest unchecked. "Well, unless you let me shave the area –"

"No!"

"Then I'll use skin bond. The edges are clean enough." He crossed to a drawer, selecting the items he needed. "Mal, do you need my help with the ViroStim?"

"Sure. If it's still working after what Frey put it through." He paused, amused at the look on his wife's face. "You need to tell me where you want it set up, though."

Simon turned back. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "It's not as if it's small enough to be put in any of the usual hiding places."

"Nope. Not a one of 'em'd take it." Mal's lips twitched. "Doc, at this juncture, I ain't sure it's gonna matter if anyone does find it. We get boarded, right now they're as likely to shoot first. A little trifle like a purloined replicator probably won't make things much worse."

"Still, better safe than sorry." Simon thought for a moment.

"It can go in my garden," River offered suddenly. "Behind the containers. I can disguise it."

Mal looked down at her. "You sure about this, _xiao nu_? It ain't gonna interfere with them in any way? I'd hate to have to be the one to tell Kaylee there won't be any more strawberries."

"I'm sure."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Simon added. "There's power already, and I can keep an eye on things."

"Then that's settled." Mal rubbed his hands together and crossed the small room to stand next to his wife, examining the cut. "How long will it take? To get those vaccines copied, I mean."

Pulling on his latex gloves, Simon shook his head. "I have no way of knowing. A couple of weeks perhaps. Maybe more."

Mal looked up sharply. "How come? That measles vaccine only took a day or so."

"That's because the chemical composition for that particular vaccine is well known. I only had to wait for the machine to calibrate before feeding in the relevant information. This time, though, it will have to analyse as well."

"Didn't you already do that? The analysis."

"I did, but not to the level and accuracy this requires." He fixed Mal with a stern eye. "I get this wrong, have even a molecule out of place, and they end up deadly poison. Or worse."

"Can it be worse?"

"Of course it could. It might make you blind, just when you need to be able to see. Or burn your nervous system so that you're paraplegic." He sighed. "Mal, there are a lot of things worse than death."

"I guess they are," Mal agreed, adding on a quiet breath, "Like seeing it happen to the woman I love."

Simon stepped closer. "I'm going to say this again. There is no guarantee this is going to work. I don't know if the so-called AntiPax isn't just a smoke screen. It might just kill you anyway."

Mal took a deep breath, looking into Freya's dark eyes. "Doc, I know that. But I need to have something to hold onto right now."

Simon was shaken at the emotion in his captain's voice. "Yes, well, I … I'll do my best."

"I know that. Never done anything less."

"Excuse me?" Freya raised her eyebrows. "I am still bleeding here." Indeed, a small trickle of red was making its way down her forehead.

Mal smiled, much more warmly, and reached up to thumb it away. "I think you'll live, though," he said, and none of them were honestly sure what he was commenting on.

"Glad to hear it." She took his hand and placed a kiss in his palm.

"Then the sooner I actually finish this," Simon said dryly," the sooner I can get to set up the ViroStim."

Mal laughed. "I figure it's gonna take us a while to manhandle it down here, and Jayne's already getting prepared to put in an industrial injury claim over the way Frey was flying." He grunted as his wife's elbow hit his stomach. "So take your time," he added, rubbing the sore spot.

* * *

Dugan Rogers leaned on the wall and looked down at the young woman he'd managed to corner. She was new, fresh, and as such hopefully hadn't had time to be warned off.

"Goff's away," Rogers said, leering slightly. "I have the office all to myself."

"Really."

"Mmn. Decided to take a long weekend on his yacht." He smiled, his teeth still covered by his lips. "It means I'm left in charge."

"But you're only his aide."

"His assistant," Rogers corrected. "And I'm much more than that, too. He wouldn't be where he is without me."

"Is that the case." She looked up and down the corridor. "I have to get going."

"What's the rush?"

"Member Carnegie wanted these papers as soon as possible."

"Why doesn't he just access them on the secure Cortex?"

"He prefers hard copy."

"Oh, old school." Rogers couldn't have sneered much more if he tried.

"So that means I –" She tried to move past him, but he was suddenly much closer, pressing his body against her.

"Honestly, I'm sure we can be helpful to each other," he oozed. "If we just tried."

A man further down the corridor stuck his head out of a door. "Rogers," he called. "Stop trying to molest every female in sight and get back into your office. There's a wave I think you'll need to see."

Rogers glared, but took a step back. "Duty calls, I'm afraid," he said to the young woman. "Perhaps another time."

"Not if I see you first," she countered, hurrying away.

_Probably sly_, he told himself. _And not really my type anyway._ He strolled back into his office, finding the message light winking on the Cortex link on his desk. Settling himself down, he flicked a switch, and information scrolled down the screen. He began to read.

'_The supply ship Goliath requested assistance at 12:34 Standard Osiran Time. They were under attack and did not expect to be able to repel boarders. The ASV Iolanthe was in the vicinity and was sent immediately to their aid, arriving some five hours later. Attached is footage taken at the time. They found …'_

As he got to the end, Rogers had become more and more tense, having to bite back on the nausea as he watched the video stream. As it finished, he immediately accessed the secure code to the private line on Member Goff's ship.

"Yes?" Chiang Goff asked, apparently having been called out of his bed from the heavy robe he was wearing. "What is it? I told you not to disturb me unless it's important, and it if isn't I shall personally -"

Rogers interrupted, an act that demonstrated just how on edge he was. "Sir, we're just had a report. The carrier transporting your goods was hit by raiders." Even on a protected line he wasn't about to be more specific.

Goff took a breath. "Pirates?"

"Not … pirates, sir. There are survivors, but so far they don't appear to have been able to give much information beyond … it looks to be Reavers, sir."

"Reavers?" Goff sat forward. "There are no such thing, Rogers."

"I know, sir. But the report does indicate … they cut them to pieces, sir." Roger swallowed back the bile burning in his throat. "Captain Bennett was lucky to survive, with a number of his crew, but he made it perfectly clear it was Reavers."

"Reavers are stories made up to make children go to bed on time, you know that."

"Yes sir. But the Miranda broadwave -"

"Was a fake," Goff said shortly. "Rogers, am I going to regret making you my personal assistant?"

"No sir."

"Then we'll have no more of this talk of Reavers."

"But sir, according to the report, Dr Petty is dead, along with all of his men."

"That is a shame. What about the girl?"

Rogers looked down, scanning the information. "I have no indication of a female corpse, sir."

"Good." He realised how he sounded, and conjured a smile. "I don't doubt they were slavers, and Captain Bennett's resistance simply made the attack more violent than was originally intended. Slavers, Rogers. That's all."

"Yes sir. Do you want me to request a full and immediate investigation, sir? The Iolanthe is treating the survivors. I can request they stay, begin the enquiries."

Goff sat back, considering. "Yes," he said finally. "And notify Dr Petty's family of the … accident. I'm sure he was fully insured, but make it clear we will cover all funeral expenses."

"Yes sir."

"Has this information been released to the media?"

"I don't know, sir. I don't think so. It's come through on a secure Government channel."

"Then I want you to make sure it isn't. It would only cause panic among certain levels of society. Those that believe in Reavers, for instance." His disdain came across the wave very clearly.

"Yes sir." Rogers, suitably chastened, hesitated. "Sir …"

"What now?"

"Shouldn't we inform Parliament? At the very least let the Blue Sun Chairman know of the incident. After all, the committee -"

"Oh, I will. But you just get on with what I've given you. I'll deal with the rest." Goff killed the transmission, a smile playing across his lips. Things were going better than he dared hope. And soon the Alliance wouldn't know what hit them, and he would have the power he'd always dreamed of.

* * *

Back on Osiris, Rogers stared at the static, disquiet blooming in his little grey soul. Something was most definitely amiss. He'd wondered originally why Goff would go off on his weekend jaunt at a time like this, particularly when he had demanded Dr Petty be transferred home, and the news that the man was dead hadn't appeared to ruffle the Parliamentary member at all. Admittedly, Goff was a politician, and as such well practised in hiding his true emotions, but still …

As he keyed in the various requests for the continued involvement of the Iolanthe, and the sympathy messages to go to the various families, Rogers debated his next move.

Yes, that had to be it. In fact, looking at it logically, there wasn't really any decision to make. He stood up, heading out of the door and towards the exit. Ignoring a colleague calling him, he passed through security into the bright spring morning. Crossing the road to the diner opposite, he took a moment to order a coffee and Danish before heading through to the men's room at the back. He didn't stop, though, but continued out into the alleyway, hidden from prying eyes and listening ears.

Leaning on the door to make sure no-one interrupted him, he pulled the disposable Cortex link he'd been given from his pocket, keying in a number that he had taken a great deal of trouble to memorise. It took only a moment to be answered, and his contact appeared on the tiny screen.

"Yes?"

Rogers cleared his throat. "You asked me to let you know of any activity regarding Member Goff."

"And?"

Rogers went over the details as much as he could. "I think you were right," he went on. "Member Goff isn't to be trusted."

"You have done well." The man in the dark suit nodded. "And you shall be rewarded for your loyalty to the Alliance." He reached forward and began to press buttons on the keyboard in front of him.

Rogers lips twitched. "I am, of course, only doing this to show that loyalty," he said, nevertheless envisaging a large number of credits being transferred to his account even as he watched.

"Of course."

"I'd … better be getting back. Before anyone notices."

"Yes."

"And I'll let you know if anything else comes up."

"That will not be necessary." The man tapped another key with his blue finger.

"What? Why? I can still be …" Something was dripping onto his hand, and he looked down. Red drops. Like blood. He reached up, feeling it flowing from his nose. Pain stabbed his temple, and he took a breath to scream, but found his mouth was full of hot saltiness that flowed down his chin and soaked his jacket. Agony spliced through him, and he slid to the ground, drowning in the liquid pooling beneath him. He clawed at his head one last time, his body contorting, then he lay still, bloodied eyes staring into the tiny patch of sky above.

The link, dropped in his death throes, sparked, a thin stream of smoke curling from its cover as its internal workings vapourised.

* * *

The two men sat side by side in their sleek black craft as they traversed the emptiness of space, both sets of eyes fixed on the screen in front of them.

"You did well gaining this information," their superior, several million miles away, said. "Member Goff has been under suspicion for some time, and this certainly suggests he has at the very least been lax in his position, and at the very worst corrupted by the Independent movement."

"Our associates can deal with him if you wish," one of the men offered.

"No. I have my own spy on board his ship - if he is in league with these so-called New Browncoats he will simply lead us straight to them." He exhaled tightly. "But this is not the most opportune moment for him to have forced our hand. The pockets of Independent resistance were being effectively dealt with without the loss of a single Alliance soldier, and now I have no alternative but to send in our regular troops."

"Is this something we can assist you with?"

"Not at this juncture." He tapped his chin with his steepled fingers. "Your mission is the safe recovery of Mara Tam. There can be no misunderstanding over this. She must be returned, and as such your priority is regaining the property and eliminating any further threat."

"There is already an Alliance vessel investigating." There was no expression on the man's face. "If they should become a problem?"

"That would be unfortunate. But as I said, her return is essential."

"Of course."

"There is one other matter. I have intelligence from another source that the other Tam subject may well be in the vicinity. If you can, retrieve her also. My source suggests she may have bred, so any off-spring should be collected as well."

"And her companions? She is unlikely to be on her own."

"Her brother should be apprehended if at all possible, as I would dearly like to make an example of him with a public execution, but the others … acceptable losses." The man dismissed the thought of so many deaths as he would have squashed a bug beneath his heel. "I trust you understand your task?"

The men with blue hands didn't even glance at each other. "Yes."

"Good. Then I do not expect to hear from you until you can report your success." The man leaned forward and the screen went blank.


	9. Chapter 9

Simon stood up, easing his back from where he had been bending over the ViroStim, checking the calibrations.

"How're we doing, doc?" Mal asked, leaning on the doorway.

"Fine. In fact, better than I'd hoped. I should have the first batch ready in about ten days."

"Good to know. But it's still a long time without it."

"Mal, we haven't had it at all before."

"I know that. Just got me the feeling something is lurking around the corner, and I don't like being unprepared."

"Mal –"

"I know. You don't have to tell me again. Nothing in this 'verse is guaranteed, 'cept death, taxes and the wonder I feel every morning waking up next to that woman. And I don't even pay taxes if I can help it." He smiled. "But anything is better than nothing."

"I suppose." He stretched again, and was sure the other man could hear the popping of his back.

"You got much else to do here?" Mal asked, seeing the flash of pain across Simon's face, and sympathising.

"Not really. By tomorrow morning the calibration will be complete, and I can feed in the sample we have."

"Then you go be with your wife. I figure she might need a little bit of comfort right now."

Simon looked at his captain. "She's thinking about Bethie and Hope?"

Mal nodded. "Sitting in the galley, rubbing her belly. That's a sure sign Frey was thinking on the kids, too, whether they were born or not."

"Then that's one order I don't mind obeying."

"Not an order, doc. Just a suggestion."

Simon smiled and walked out of the garden room.

Mal didn't leave for a moment, just stood looking at the ViroStim and wondering how all his hopes had come to be pinned on a _goushi _piece of Alliance equipment. Then his gaze wandered towards the strawberry plants in one of the containers. A hint of red was peeking out from beneath a leaf, and as he moved it he saw a plump, ripe fruit, perhaps the last for a while.

_Take it_, he heard River's voice in his mind.

_You ever gonna stop reading me? _he asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his thoughts.

_No. And take it. Freya would like it._

Mal ran his fingers over the textured surface. _Where is she, albatross?_

_Your bunk. And a smoother wouldn't hurt._

He stood upright. _She hurting?_

_Headache. Still got the concussion._

_No wonder she didn't want to …_ He stopped.

_Make love last night? _his surrogate daughter supplied.

_And you're not supposed to be looking on things like that._

_I'm a grown woman. With a son of my own._

_Not too big to be put across my knee. _He heard her laughter in his head.

_Have to catch me first!_

_Oh … go play with Jayne or something_, he groused. _Preferably near the airlock._

She chuckled again as he plucked the strawberry and went to find his wife.

* * *

"Kaylee?" Simon stepped down into the galley, concerned to see the love of his life sitting with her head on her crossed arms.

She looked up. "Oh, hey, Simon." She smiled, but it wasn't her usual sunny expression.

"Are you all right?" He crossed to her, automatically putting his hand to her forehead to check if she had a temperature.

She pulled his fingers away. "I'm fine. Shiny."

"Just missing the children?"

Kaylee's eyes narrowed. "You catching being psychic?"

"No."

"Then how did you –"

"Me too." He tugged the chair next to her closer, so they could touch, and sat down. "I miss them terribly. Me. A man who never actually considered have offspring of my own."

"No?"

"No. It wasn't in my plan."

She leaned against him. "You had one of those?"

"Of course. Every man of my generation, particularly as a doctor, had one. Be top of my class –"

"Three percent," Kaylee corrected.

He grinned. "Okay, top three percent. But head of department in eight years, consultant in another five, then sit back and let the big money roll in."

"You didn't really want that, did you?"

"Well, no," Simon confessed. "I became a doctor to heal people, make them well again, so only seeing those who could afford it … No, _bao bei_. That wasn't what I wanted."

"And a wife? Children?"

"Honestly? Probably not until I was in my forties. And no children. I didn't feel in the least bit fatherly."

"When did it change?" she asked, snuggling into him. "Seeing as we already have two and you finally managed to knock me up again."

He grinned, but it faltered somewhat as he said, "River's letters. I thought she was alright until then, when they started to arrive." He shook his head slightly. "You know, at first, I wasn't sure she was really in trouble. But when I found the code …"

"You saved her, Simon."

"But sometimes I wonder if I couldn't have done it quicker. Got to her before they operated. Or at least before they made it so bad."

"I thought it was only the Cap went on about what if's?"

Simon laughed. "Well, it does seem that everyone on this ship wants to take on the burden of guilt somewhat." He reached for the sketchpad that sat on the table in front of them. "River's?" he asked.

Kaylee felt warm, comforted. "Mmn. I think she forgot she left it here."

He flicked through the pages, smiling at the images of Bethie and the other children, the swift drawings capturing the crew doing the mundane things of everyday life, the … "Mara?"

"Oh."

Simon looked up sharply to see River in the doorway, Jayne at her back. "Why didn't you show me this?" the young doctor asked, almost demanding.

"It's mine." She stepped down into the galley, but didn't try to take it from him.

"I know, _mei-mei_. But I … it can help me understand your frame of mind." He glanced down at the pictures again, the image of a young woman with her hair drifting across her face, seeming so familiar. "Is this you?"

River shook her head. "An echo. Me and not me. I can't tell who is who." Her voice fractured and she began to tremble. "Which is which. Me, myself and I. I'm torn asunder, a pair, not broken but split. I -"

Jayne immediately put his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. "Moonbrain."

"Mara," Simon echoed, then his face paled. "Mara Tam?

"What?" Kaylee stared at him.

"Hey, is this a private party or can anyone join in?" Hank asked, looking over Jayne's shoulder with Zoe at his side.

"Get the Cap," Jayne muttered. "Think he needs to be here."

Zoe retreated to the open hatch. "Sir, I think you'd better get up here."

"Why? My boat crashing?"

"No. River."

There was only a second's delay before Mal quickly climbed up the ladder, Freya behind him. "What's going on?"

"Not sure." Hank nodded towards the galley.

Mal glanced at Freya, then strode into the dining area. "Well? Someone care to enlighten me as to the nature of this … whatever it is?"

Simon handed the sketchpad over. "Look."

"Well, I'm looking. Seems River's been busy."

"No, you don't understand."

"Maybe you'd better explain it, then."

Simon glanced at his sister, then said, "You know I use the name Mara sometimes."

"Yeah. Instead of Tam. Always thought it was a pretty good alias."

"Yes, well, there's a reason I use it. I didn't just pick it out of the air."

Mal gave the pad to Freya. "Go on."

"We had a cousin, on my father's … on Gabriel's side. Her name was Mara. Almost the same age as River."

"So what's she got to do with the price of fish?"

"I … I'm not sure. She's dead."

"Not dead," River murmured, moving backwards and forwards in Jayne's arms. "Split. Divided. Undone."

"Honey, you need a smoother?" the big man suggested, but the look she shot him spiked to his heart.

"No needles."

"Okay. No needles. But you wanna tell us about Mara Tam? Is that her?"

"I think so."

"But she's dead, Riv. You bro just said."

"No. Dead but not dead."

Freya looked closely into River's eyes. "You mean dead like I was? Like you were?"

Mal glanced sharply at her. "What do you mean?" Then his eyes narrowed. "Academy?"

"Oh, God." Simon had sat back in his seat, his normally pale face now deathly white.

"Doc?"

"Now I understand."

"I wish we did. You care to explain?" Mal was getting more frustrated, and that frustration was turning to anger.

"Something my father said once. I didn't … it didn't click before, but now …"

"Simon." Now Mal's tone would brook no disobedience.

The young man looked up. "My father was talking to someone on the Cortex. He didn't know I was there, but I heard him congratulating them on their decision. And he made some comment about River's twin. Only I thought he was joking. I knew River didn't have a twin. She was just a fat little baby in the bassinet who cried all the time."

"Wasn't fat," his sister commented, burying her face in Jayne's chest but at least the trembling had stopped.

Mal ignored the interruption. "So?"

"What if they used the same donors? The same as for when River was conceived?"

"Twins," River murmured, her voice muffled. "Two halves make a whole."

"You mean this Mara was psychic too?"

"But you said she was dead," Hank pointed out.

"When she was twelve. We went to her funeral service." He shook his head. "But what if she wasn't? If she was stolen away, taken to the Academy, made into … something else?"

"Like me." River turned back to look at them all with her disconcertingly dark gaze. "But not like me. My twin."

"We have to find her, Mal," Simon said, standing quickly. "If she's being held by the Alliance, God knows what they're doing to her."

Freya felt a jolt from River, instantly repressed, but it was enough. "I think it's worse than that, Simon," she said slowly.

"Worse? How can it be worse?"

She took a deep breath. "I think it's possible she might be the one controlling the Reavers."

"That's ridiculous."

Mal leaned forward, his fists on the table. "Why? It ain't no more ridiculous than what the Academy was doing to folks like my wife and your sis. Turning 'em into assassins, weapons."

"But that would mean –"

"It explains why River's feeling her now. God knows how much control it takes, but maybe that's why she's picking up on the overflow."

"It might be proximity," Zoe put in. "If we're closer to her than we think."

Mal nodded. He stood straight and looked towards the psychic. "Can you tell where she is, albatross?" he asked gently. "Pinpoint her for us?"

River shook her head. "I think she's asleep."

"When she wakes up?"

"I don't know." She couldn't help the slight thrill of fear in her voice. "But if I can find her, she might be able to find us."

"Can you do like a passive scan?" Mal suggested. "Just listen for her? Even if you could give us a rough idea of the direction –"

"So you can kill her?" River's voice cut through the galley.

"Ain't my intention, _xiao nu_. Not if I can help it. But if the Alliance has her, and they're planning on making use of her again to attack good and innocent folks … something has to be done. You can see that, can't you?"

She glared at him, but finally she nodded. "Yes."

"That's my good girl." Mal crossed his arms. "Best we leave it at that for the moment."

Jayne tugged gently on River's arm. "Come on, moonbrain," he said. "Let's you and me go and sit quiet someplace."

"So I can look for Mara?"

"No. So you can rest."

She smiled at him and tangled her fingers in his, letting him lead her out of the galley.

"Mal, I'm not sure this is going to be good for River's state of mind," Simon said quietly as they turned the corner and were out of sight.

"I know. But I ain't asking her to read this Mara, just to tell me where she is."

"It might not be possible to separate the two."

Mal put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Then I conjure it's your job to keep an eye on her. Jayne ain't gonna let her out of his sight, but he might not see something medical that you do."

"I still have the ViroStim to check on."

"Then do both. Get her weeding, or whatever she does in that garden of hers. Might even help her."

"I'll be watching her too," Freya added.

Simon smiled slightly. "Thank you." He pulled on his ear. "You know, I hope we're wrong."

"Me too," Mal agreed.

"Will you? Kill Mara if it comes down to it?"

"Let's wait and see what happens." Mal deliberately sidestepped the issue and gave the doctor a slight push. "Now go on. It's nearly dinner time, and someone has to cook."

"It's my turn," Kaylee admitted, standing up. "You wanna help?"

"Of course." The smile widened a little. "As long as it isn't protein."

"Well, if you like you can take a look and see if there's anything left from the spices my Ma gave me." She took his hand. "And we got rice."

"Sounds … exciting," Simon said with a dry tone, allowing her to lead him behind the counter.

Mal glanced at the other three and nodded fractionally towards the bridge. They followed him out.

"You think we're wrong, sir?" Zoe asked. "That it isn't Mara Tam?"

For answer Mal looked at Freya. "What do you think? You were reading River while we were in there, weren't you?"

Freya looked troubled. "I was, at least as much as she'd let me. She's right, though. There is a … a presence. Someone very like her, but not her. No wonder she was talking about having too many legs. She couldn't tell the difference."

"And she can now?" Hank asked.

"Now the pieces are coming together, yes."

"And controlling the Reavers?" Mal prompted. "You think it's her?"

"I don't know." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "If Mara is River's genetic twin, there's no knowing what she's capable of."

"Your instinct, Frey. What're your guts telling you?"

She rubbed harder. "It's too much coincidence. I think it …" She finally looked at him. "Yes. I think it is."

"Me too." He could see pain in her eyes. "You okay?" he asked, stroking her arm.

"Still got that headache."

He took hold of her shoulders and turned her around. "Then you're gonna go back and lie down a while."

"Is that an order?"

"Do I have to make it one?"

She chuckled, low in her throat. "Okay. Just 'til dinner." She climbed down.

"Mal, I need a heading," Hank said. "As much as I like flying around with nowhere to go, we keep doing that for long enough and we're out of fuel."

"No need for that," Mal said, stretching his own back out a little. "I got word of a job. Just a pick-up and delivery."

"Now, sir?" Zoe looked almost shocked.

"Apart from everything else, we still need to eat. But that ain't the reason we're taking it." Mal hitched his thumbs into his suspenders. "If we fall off the radar entirely, there are some folks might wonder what we're doing, and that could draw more attention to us than we really need right now. So we'll do this job. Like I said, easy money."

"You really think this is a good idea?" Hank asked, glancing at Zoe, who barely shrugged.

"Good, maybe not. But we're doing it." Mal put his foot on the first rung of the ladder into his quarters. "Get us a heading to Whitefall."

"White …" Hank's stare widened so much his eyeballs should have fallen out and been rolling around the decking. "Patience?"

"Patience."


	10. Chapter 10

The trip to Whitefall was going to take the best part of nine days but it didn't even take nine hours for almost everyone on the crew to try and talk Mal out of dealing again with Patience.

"Hasn't she shot you? More'n once?" Hank asked as he negotiated a small asteroid field.

Mal crossed his arms, standing in his usual position behind the pilot's seat. "Only a bit, and the last time not at all."

"Could be you're due."

"Just fly my damn boat."

Simon was more direct. "I suggest you ask her to make it a flesh wound," he said, counting swabs. "If it's anything more I don't really have the supplies."

"She's not going to shoot me. Didn't last time."

"Only because she was too busy laughing at you for being a reluctant actor," the doctor pointed out, referring to the time they'd hosted the Hawkins Troupe.

"Nor the time before. In fact, I might even go so far as to say the old harridan's mellowing."

Simon just shook his head and shooed Mal out of the infirmary.

"She isn't to be trusted, sir," was Zoe's opinion, given as she poured them each a coffee in the galley.

"I know it. And it means we can trust her to try and gyp us in some way," her captain replied.

"It won't stop her shooting you."

He grinned. "Zoe, that's what I keep you around for."

Her eyes narrowed. "Stopping her shooting you, or doing it myself, sir?"

His gunhand and mechanic tried together in the cargo bay.

"It ain't like we need the work that much," Jayne commented. "'N' River 'n' me got some cash put by in case of emergencies if'n you need it."

Mal half-smiled. "That's very magnanimous of you. Now go ask River what it means, and you keep your money."

"You sure it ain't a trap, Cap?" Kaylee asked, just a little nervously. "Knowing how she likes to spring 'em on you."

"Nope. But forewarned is forearmed."

"I hate those sayings."

"Not too keen on 'em myself, _xiao mei-mei_, but at least this one's right. I don't intend on anyone getting shot this time."

"Well, you and plans ain't exactly ever meshed that well, have they?" Jayne growled, stomping off to find his River.

In fact, only the young psychic and Freya had been quiet on the subject, and in a way that worried Mal more. River had looked at him, a wave of deep understanding in her eyes that made him squirm mentally like a fish on a hook, while Freya had studiously ignored any opportunity to discuss the matter.

So after a somewhat strained dinner, as everyone headed off to their bunks comparatively early, he followed his wife down the ladder, determined - for once - to get her opinion.

"You okay?" he asked, watching her begin to strip for bed.

"Shiny." She smiled at him and tossed her discarded shirt onto the chair.

"Only you ain't said a word about the job."

"No, I suppose I haven't." She sat on the bed and pulled off her boots. "Not really much point, is there?"

Mal hooked his arm around the ladder. "I got my reasons, Frey."

"I know."

His eyes narrowed. "You know, you're being altogether far too reasonable over this."

"Maybe I've learned restraint."

"Nope. That ain't it."

Her lips twitched. "I could take offence at that." Standing up she undid her pants, sliding them down her legs and before kicking them to join her shirt. "You think Patience knows something," she added astutely, putting her hands on her hips and gazing at him.

Usually the sight of her in her underwear was enough to derail his mind onto other things, but this time he kept on track. "You peeking again?"

"No." She smiled. "But I know you. And even if the job came with the weight of that _boo hway-hun duh puo-foo_ in gold there's no way you'd take it right now otherwise."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you figured that out all by your lonesome? Not even one little peek?"

"Not even one."

"Am I that transparent?" he asked, unhooking his arm and crossing the small to room stand close to her, his hands on her hips.

"No. The rest of the crew just think you're _fong luh_."

"Succinctly put." He gently squeezed the flesh at her waist. "So why do you think I'm doing this?"

"Because you don't believe in coincidences."

He looked deep into her dark eyes. "That a fact."

"It is." She laughed gently. "You know, you really should tell them."

Finally smiling, Mal lifted both hands and slipped her bra straps from her shoulders. "I will. Eventually. But you're right. This job seems … too convenient." He watched her turn away and take her bra off, her panties joining the pile of clothing on the chair, before sliding into bed.

"Like Kendrick."

"Mmn." He knew what she was referring to. The man who'd turned from being so staunchly Alliance that he ordered the scorching of Shadow, of Mal's home, to one of what the rumours called New Browncoats. Kendrick had set up a job specifically to get Mal's attention, to try and get him involved, and Becca Morgan died because of it.

"You really think they'd be so stupid as to try the same thing twice?" Freya pummelled the pillow behind her head into a more comfortable shape.

"You'll burst that thing and the room'll be full of feathers," he said, taking it from her and plumping it up. He replaced it tenderly. "But to answer your query, some folks seem to have a distinct lack of imagination in these matters."

"So we're going to see what happens?"

He sat down next to her, folding her hand in his. "Frey, honey … this whole thing with Mara Tam might be a giant smokescreen. Now, I ain't saying that River's wrong, nor you, but even if she is the girl they're using to control the Reavers, 'til we know where to start looking for her … well, it's a big 'verse out there."

"But she's close. Or at least, not the other side of the galaxy."

"You sure on that?"

"River is."

"Then we'll take that as read, for the moment. But there's still a lot of planets and moons to cover, and there's no evidence she ain't on board a ship, moving around."

"So we take this occasion to see who else is pulling the strings?"

He nodded slowly. "The way I see things, there's at least two lots of puppet masters out there. Alliance, New Browncoats … they're all mixed up in this somehow, and I aim to figure it out. 'Sides, I don't like being led around like I've got a ring through my nose. It makes me all kinds of nervous."

Frey reached up and touched his face, the stubble just beginning to push through his skin. "Just so long as she doesn't shoot you this time," she said softly.

"Everyone's so concerned about my skin." He shook his head in mock disbelief. "You'd think they cared."

"We do."

"Then I'll try not to let that happen."

"Good. Now, are you coming to bed or not?"

He grinned and leaned forwards. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

She could still hear the voices, just on the edge of her reason. There hadn't been a time in her life when they weren't there, but it was so much worse after they took her. After what they did to her. It had got to where time wasn't split into day and night anymore … only pain and no pain.

Still, there was none at the moment. Just a pleasant numbness that was receding as she became more aware of herself. She was lying down, that much she was sure of. And not the hard metal of the examining tables, nor even the chair they strapped her to for much of the time. This felt … soft. Warm. But something was above her, holding her down nevertheless.

"Mara?"

A voice. Not like the others, not in her head, but in her ears.

"Mara, I know you're awake. Try and open your eyes."

She didn't need to, not to read him if she wanted, but out of a tiny flash of courtesy she did so, finding it surprisingly hard. The face that swam into view seemed to float in and out of focus, but suddenly she knew who he was.

"Dr Quintana." Her voice sounded old, unused. Perhaps it was because she spent so long screaming instead of talking.

Emil Quintana smiled. "I knew you'd remember me."

She studied him, noting the slight stoop he'd acquired from hours of bending over readouts, and curly grey hair that had receded quite a bit since the last time she'd seen him.

His eyes were the same, though – strangely colourless, as if he'd been left out in the sun too long as a child, and they'd faded.

"Yes," she whispered.

"I arranged for your rescue, Mara. To get you out of the hands of the Alliance." When she didn't respond, he continued, "I saved you, Mara."

She realised some response was necessary. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He seemed inordinately pleased for some reason. "How are you feeling?"

"Odd."

"That's the drugs you were given. But I'm not going to drug you, Mara," Quintana went on. "I never wanted to, even before. And I know how fond Petty was of his medications. But this time it's going to be different."

He smiled wider, looking like a benevolent uncle. "When you're feeling stronger, we can talk about what's going to happen. About my plans. And I'm sure you'll come around to see that what I envisage is the right thing to do. Now, you rest." He lightly touched the webbing across her chest. "By the way, the restraints are for your own protection, but I'm sure we can remove them soon. As soon as I know you won't try and harm yourself."

"I won't."

"Good. Good." He patted her shoulder. "Now, you try and get some rest, and we'll talk in the morning. I expect you'll be hungry by then."

"Yes."

For a moment she thought he was going to lean down and put a kiss on her cheek, but instead he hurried out, the door to the small room sliding shut behind him with barely a hiss. She didn't have to listen to know it was locked as well.

She briefly considered trying to get free, but the lassitude in her body made the decision for her. Time enough to examine her surroundings. Instead she tried to reach out with her mind, to find the others, those who'd been her playmates for some time, but there was nothing, just a blank wall of fog, with the ever-present voices a fingertip out of reach.

It didn't worry her unduly - Dr Petty had often tried various drug combinations to keep her sedated but awake, controlling her every conscious minute and beyond. Injections to make her sleep, injections to wake her up … even the food had added bonuses in the way of hormone suppressants, and so many of them had made her deaf and blind, and if she refused to eat she was force-fed.

But now, without them, the fog would soon dissipate, and she would be free of any restrictions.

Mara Tam closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift back into sleep. There was time. Plenty of it now. Soon she'd be able to call her friends to the gathering, and feel them feed. And soon she'd be able to find her other half, the other self, the mirror she saw in her dreams sometimes. Soon she'd be complete again.

* * *

"Another," Ethan demanded, holding out his hand.

Ben grinned and passed over a paper plane. His daddy had taught him how to make them, as soon as his fingers were enough under his own control, and he was good at it, much better than the other children, somehow managing to fold them with crisp, sharp edges, and even sides.

"Mine's still gone furthest," Bethie said, hearing the four dogs snuffling around the fallen apples in the orchard. "I'm winning."

"Might be letting you win," Ethan pointed out.

She glared at him. "Are you?"

He considered lying, then decided, as his mother always told him, that the truth was the best. "No."

Bethie couldn't help the smug look on her face. "See?"

He sighed inwardly, briefly wondering whether things would get better as they got older. Probably not. She'd still lord it over him, even when they were really ancient, like Uncle Jayne. He smoothed out the wings of the plane, closed one eye, and boosted it through the air with all of his might.

It flew marvellously straight, and he could see, from the corner of his eye, that Bethie was getting agitated. Then a breeze caught the paper dart, and it twisted off course. Just as it was about to land Fiddler appeared, leaped at it then ran away with it in his mouth, his tail wagging furiously. Giselle and her two puppies followed, barking at him.

"That one doesn't count," Ethan said, turning to Bethie.

"Yes it does."

"No it doesn't. It didn't land."

"You threw it. It counts."

"Fiddler ate it."

"So it's my fault?"

"Didn't say that."

"Wasn't going to win anyway."

"Might. If there'd been no wind."

She crossed her arms. "I say it wouldn't. And I'm the oldest."

Ethan sighed again. "Fine," he said, but with more than a little ill grace. "You win."

"_I_ win," Ben pointed out, sounding much older than his tender years. "I made them."

She pouted at him, then grinned. "Want to play again?"

"Nah," Ethan said, sitting down next to Ben, who was folding the paper a different way and coming up with some interesting shapes. "Rather go skipping stones by the lake." He saw Ben smile, as they all knew Bethie just didn't have the knack of it.

"You know we're not allowed to go there without an adult," she said, her lips now drawn into a tight line.

"Could do. No-one'd know."

She was tempted, sorely so. No matter that she couldn't skip a stone even once, not like her Uncle Mal, who could make it bounce at least half a dozen times. There were still other things to interest her around the lake, like the little boathouse, as yet unoccupied even though Auntie Inara kept promising to buy a boat, and the cave she'd found last time on the water's edge. Well, maybe not a cave. More like a shallow indentation, but she could make-believe that it was a cave full of pirate treasure. Maybe even take some of her own treasures and bury them there.

Ethan could see her mind working, and held out high hopes that maybe he'd managed to persuade her. "Well?" he asked eventually.

"Couldn't take Jesse," Bethie muttered to herself. "Too small. Same for Caleb."

"They're in the house, with Auntie 'Nara," Ben pointed out.

"Hope, too," Ethan added. "Tea party or something." He didn't know quite how much he looked like his father when he said that, with the same amount of disdain for such girlie pastimes.

"Maybe we could …" Her voice trailed off, and her eyes lifted towards the blue sky.

Ethan felt something trickle down his back, like melted snow. "Bethie? What is it?"

Her face had gone pale. "Get the puppies," she whispered.

"What? Why?"

"Just do it!" she hissed, grabbing Ben's hand and pulling him to his feet.

Ethan stared at her, then called for the dogs.

"Bethie?" Ben asked, suddenly scared.

"Need to hide," she said quietly. "'Lliance."


	11. Chapter 11

Inara stood outside her home, watching the Alliance shuttle coming in to land, the downdraught catching the tiny paper planes and tossing them high into the air. Not that it looked anything like the shuttles she was used to. This could almost have swallowed Serenity, with room to spare.

Sam had wanted her to hide.

"Inara, you have to come inside." He was standing in the open entrance to the shelter.

"No. They're expecting to find me here, so I'd better be."

"I'll do it. I'll stay."

"No. You have to look after the children." She looked past him to where she could see frightened faces. "They need you."

"Inara, they need you more."

"And I won't be on my own. Mr and Mrs Boden are staying with me."

Sam shook his head. "Then let me do it, Inara. I can deal with the Alliance. I'm a respected doctor, and -"

"No, Sam. This is my house, and I'm not going to let them frighten me away."

He gazed at her, seeing the steel within, the way she'd drawn herself up, and he couldn't help it. "I love you," he said softly.

It threw her slightly, and she rewarded him with a smile. "I love you too," she responded, lifting a hand to place it against his olive cheek. "Now, go inside. Keep them safe."

He didn't argue, just stepped back and let the door close, its seams disappearing into the wall as a testament to Mr Boden's skills, and she'd hurried back upstairs.

The shuttle's engines shut down, and barely a second later the main hatch opened and a dozen soldiers poured out, guns at the ready.

Inara swallowed.

A woman stepped out of the shuttle, her Alliance uniform crisp, her hair tightly controlled under the peak cap, her skin the colour of polished walnut. She straightened her jacket and strode forward.

"All of this, just for me?" Inara asked, bringing all her Companion training to the fore. "I had no idea I was so important."

"Miss Inara Serra?" the woman asked.

"Yes."

"I am Commander Markham of the IAV Shackleton." She sounded bored and annoyed, not a good combination when linked to the gun conspicuous at her waist. "You are required by the order of the Allied Planets to comply in all matters. Failure to do so -"

"Excuse me?" Inara interrupted. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"

The woman looked displeased at not being allowed to get out all of her spiel. "Failure to do so will result in yourself and anyone else on the property being bound and held in Alliance custody until such time as you are deemed no longer a threat. To this end we intend to search as we deem fit." She raised one hand, and six of her men hurried into the house, another four heading around to the back.

"Search? Search for what?" Inara didn't have to pretend shock. "What do you think you're doing?"

"My job." The woman looked her up and down. "Who is currently living here?"

"Myself, and my housekeeper and her husband. My partner is away on business."

"Partner?" Markham pulled a small reader from her pocket, checking it. "Ah, yes. A Dr Samuel Nazir."

Inara's mouth tightened. "I didn't realise that was common knowledge."

"The Alliance knows everything, Miss Serra." She glanced at the reader again. "And the young women? I understand you have four sisters residing with you."

The Reilly girls. Inara tried not to look surprised. "They're staying with friends."

"How … convenient."

"Very." She took a deep breath. "Commander, before I answer any more of your questions, I demand to know what this is all about."

Markham couldn't have looked more contemptuous if she tried. "Miss Serra, your demands are irrelevant. Now I suggest you stand to one side and let us carry out our work. Unless you want to be arrested right now." She walked purposefully past Inara and followed her men inside.

Inara stared at the two soldiers left on guard, her heart pounding in her chest. Somehow she didn't think it was the children they were after, but that meant –

A crash echoed from the house, and Mrs Boden appeared in the doorway. "Madam …" she began, anger on her normally impassive face.

Fire burned up through Inara. "Don't worry," she said. "Go back to the kitchen and try and stop them breaking too much. Tell Mr Boden to do the same in the out buildings. I'll deal with the Commander."

* * *

"They're searching the house," Bethie said to Sam, talking quietly even though she knew the soldiers couldn't hear them.

"Are they looking for you?" he asked, not putting anything past the Alliance.

Bethie shrugged.

Rosemary, one of the Reilly twins still with Inara, whimpered slightly. "I'm scared," she whispered. "Shouldn't we just go and tell them we're here? They're Alliance. They won't hurt us."

Sam shook his head. "We don't know that. Better we stay where we are."

"But they're searching. Bethie said. And if they find us they might -"

Ethan climbed down from the cot bed, his cat in his arms, and walked towards her. "Rosie?"

The young girl looked at him. "What?"

"I'm scared too," he admitted, his blue eyes dark in this light, but radiating sympathy. "I need a hug."

She blinked at him. "You do?"

"'Es. And my Mama and Daddy aren't here to do it. Will you hug me?"

"I …" Rosemary stared, but something inside her softened. "Course I will."

Sam watched in something like amazement as the Reilly girls surrounded the little boy and cuddled him between them, Maoli making loud purrs of appreciation. Then he felt a little hand slip into his, and he glanced down to see Bethie gazing at him.

"Just like his momma," she whispered.

Sam nodded. "That he is." Ethan might be too young to put into words what he'd just done, but Sam knew he understood. Bethie was right - he might be the spitting image of his father, but Ethan was just like Freya.

"Uncle Mal used to be too," Bethie added, climbing into his lap. "When he was little."

"Then your Uncle Mal and Auntie Frey fit well, don't they?"

"Miss them," she said on a soft breath. "All of them. 'Specially …" Her voice faded to nothing as she thought of her own mother and father.

"I know, honey," Sam said, holding her close. "I know."

* * *

Above them, in the drawing room of her house, Inara was livid. "How dare you come into my home and do this?" She indicated the mess they'd made, pulling every cushion from each seat, overturning furniture and emptying cupboards, not caring if they broke anything.

Commander Amy Markham turned to look at the ex-Companion. "You are under suspicion of harbouring terrorists," she said, her face and voice hard. "I don't think you should complain too much."

"Harbouring …" Inara couldn't believe it, then heard the sound of yet another vase crashing to the ground upstairs. "Are you insane?"

"Miss Serra, you are no longer under the protection of the Guild." Markham stepped closer. "And as a loyal subject of the Alliance, you would do well to remember that."

"And as a subject of the Alliance, I have rights. And one of those is to not have soldiers rampaging through my house tearing everything to pieces!" Even when the Reavers had desecrated her shuttle on Corvus she hadn't felt such anger.

"Then I suggest you make a claim for compensation. You might be lucky." Markham almost sneered. "Where are they?"

"Who?"

"The New Browncoats. The Independent scum you are known to have fraternised with." She looked the other woman up and down, and shook her head. "A woman of your standing, taking passage on a Firefly. Did you think you could drop off the radar like that?"

Inara drew herself up. "What I chose to do was my own affair."

"So I understand." Markham picked up a cushion, running her fingers across the delicate embroidery, then dropped it to the floor as if it was the most tainted thing she had ever seen. "Where are they?"

"If you mean the crew I was with for a short time, I have no idea. The captain and I argued, and he put me off his vessel. I was lucky enough to find this house, and –"

"I don't believe you." She half turned, grinding her heel into the cushion's fabric.

"I don't care what you believe. You've searched my home from top to bottom, all the out buildings, and you've found nothing. Doesn't that suggest to you that I have nothing to hide?"

Markham shrugged. "And yet you're complaining."

"Of course I am!" On the edge of her hearing Inara detected the sound of a ship coming in to land, but was so incensed with anger that she ignored it. "You have no right to barge in like this!"

The Alliance Commander swept an arm through the remaining trinkets on top of a table, scattering them to the floor. "To the contrary. I am within my rights to raze this house to the ground if I so choose," she said darkly. "Just to keep it from being used as an Independent base."

"You wouldn't." Inara's voice had dropped in shock. Not from the prospect of losing what was her beautiful home, but in worry about what would happen to the others hiding in the shelter beneath if that happened.

"If you continue to obstruct me in my duties, I will have no alternative but to -"

The door slammed open and Dillon Malfrey strode in, followed by one of the soldiers who had been on guard at the front of the house. He looked unsure as to whether to fire or not.

"What the _diyu_ is going on here?" Dillon demanded to know.

"Who are you?" Markham asked in turn.

Inara couldn't help the small sigh of relief escape her lips. "Oh, Dillon," she said, hurrying to his side. "I'm so glad to see you."

"It's all right, my dear." He put his arm around her. "I will deal with this." He looked back at the Commander. "Well? I'm waiting."

"As am I." Her fingers were touching the pistol at her waist.

"Dillon Malfrey. And I insist you tell me what you're doing in this house."

Markham's eyebrows raised a millimetre. Having been raised on Persephone, the name wasn't unfamiliar to her. "I have my orders," she said with slightly more respect.

"And they would be?"

"To apprehend any terrorists, Independents or Browncoats."

Dillon grunted, almost laughing. "And you seriously expect me to believe you think they're hiding here?"

"We have information that a Firefly –"

"Your information is wrong." He glared at her. "I know all about what you're doing here, Commander. What your people are doing all over this quadrant. Harassing innocent people in an attempt to flush out these so-called New Browncoats." He shook his head. "Well, they're not here. So I suggest you leave."

"I have orders to –"

"You have nothing!" His voice thundered from the walls. "And be absolutely sure on this: I shall be discussing this matter with your superiors."

Commander Markham looked as if she was going to argue, but instead pointedly removed her hand from her gun. "Mr Malfrey, you're not above the law. But as it stands there appears to be nothing to find." She stepped closer to Inara. "However, if we receive information that you have harboured terrorists, then no matter how high your friends, you will be bound. Do I make myself clear?"

Inara drew herself up, her back straight. "Perfectly."

Markham's eyes narrowed, but she merely clicked her fingers and swept out.

Dillon waited until he heard the front door slam before asking, "Inara, my dear, are you all right?" He manoeuvred the ex-Companion to a chair, the only one in the room still upright.

Inara sank down gratefully. "I'm fine, Dillon. At least now." She looked around at the destruction. "I have to say, if you hadn't arrived at that particular moment I'd probably have done something inappropriate, like scratched that woman's eyes out."

Dillon smiled. "I think that's the least you would have done, and probably been thrown in jail for it."

"It might have been worth it."

"That I would have paid to see." He lifted his head slightly as the sound of the Alliance shuttle taking off roared above. "I take it Mal isn't here."

"No." She ran a hand through her hair, patting it into place. "He left the children and went again."

"Any idea where?"

"No." Inara took a deep breath. "It was agreed that I wouldn't call him, or him me. Safer for everyone." She stood up. "In fact –"

The door opened again, and a man stood framed. "Dillon?"

Inara stared. Something about him was familiar, but she was certain she'd never seen him before. Then something clicked. "Are you Freya's brother?"

Alex smiled, bowing ever so slightly. "That I am."

"You look just like …" She gathered herself. "But you know that."

"Believe me, since I'd gone so long thinking my sister was dead, it's gratifying to know that there are some similarities."

"Are you equally as annoying?"

"Absolutely." The smile turned to a grin, taking years off him.

"Then I'm sure we'll get on famously." She bent down and picked up a silver capture frame, the images still slowly changing, replacing it on the table. "I apologise for the state of my home, but there was very little I could do about it."

"I saw them leave," Alex said. "Breed's making sure they're headed out of atmo."

"Breed's here too?" Inara looked from one man to the other. "And what _are_ you doing here, Dillon?"

"Being the cavalry, it seems." He tried not to look smug.

"Apart from that."

"Well, I –" He stopped short as a small whirlwind barrelled through the door and attached itself to his leg.

"Hello, Uncle Dillon," Bethie said, smiling widely.

He smiled down at her, and he stroked her hair. "Hello, sweetie."

Sam ran in. "I'm sorry," he said. "She told me the Alliance had gone, but as soon as I opened the door she … oh. I didn't know you still had guests." His hand hovered close to the base of his spine and the small pistol he had secreted there.

"It's all right, Sam," Inara said quickly. "These are friends."

"I don't think we've met," Dillon put in. "Malfrey. Dillon Malfrey. And this is Alex Rostov."

Sam's eyebrows went up. "Freya's brother?"

"The very same."

They all shook hands, Inara taking Sam's arm. "They were just about to tell me what they're doing here," she explained.

"Looking for Mal," Dillon said succinctly. "We've got some information he needs to have."

"Daddy?" Ethan leaned in the open doorway.

"You should still be down in the shelter," Inara said, going down onto her heels and looking into the little boy's face.

"Man of the house," he said quietly. "Daddy said so."

Inara looked up at Sam. "I think your position has been usurped."

"Auntie 'Nara, what does usurped mean?" Bethie put in.

"I'll explain later. Now, I think you'd better go and –" She was interrupted by a chirping from Dillon's pocket.

He pulled a new-looking comlink from inside. "Breed?"

"_Dillon, there's another ship approaching. Breaking atmo right now."_

Inara's hand leaped to her throat.

Dillon's face hardened. "Is it the Alliance back?"

"_Doesn't look like it. Not unless they're flying the Ibis class now."_

Dillon looked at Inara. "Were you expecting anyone else?"

She shook her head. "We've not been engaged as counsellors for a month, and … no, no-one should be coming here."

Bethie's eyes narrowed, and she concentrated. Suddenly she looked at Ethan, wonderment on her face. She turned on her heel and ran out of the room.

"Bethie?" Inara called. "Ethan, go see to her."

"Yes, Auntie 'Nara." He followed the little girl.

Dillon lifted the comlink again. "How soon?" he asked.

"_About two minutes."_

"Then we'd better be ready."

* * *

The craft, a sleek D-Class Ibis, not exactly new but well-looked after, came smoothly in to land next to Alex's ship. There was a moment's pause as the engines shut down, then a hatch opened in the side and a ramp extended to the ground.

"Inara …" Sam said nervously. "I really think –"

"S'okay," Bethie interrupted, pushing past them all as she straightened the dress she'd put on, brushing her hair quickly before running at full pelt down the stairs again, Ethan at her heels. "S'good visitors."

Dillon glanced down at her. "Are you sure?"

"Feel it."

Inara licked dry lips. "Well, at least they're not Alliance."

"Don't worry," Dillon said, his hand close to the pistol inside his jacket. "We're all armed."

"That doesn't actually make me feel any better."

He couldn't help the lift to his lips at her somewhat acerbic tone.

A figure appeared in the doorway of the Ibis, and Bethie walked forwards before anyone could stop her.

"Hello, Grandpa," she said formally.

The man looked so shocked he might have fallen but for the elegant woman at his back.

"Regan …" he whispered.

"Grandma." Bethie smiled, suddenly feeling shy. "Hello."


	12. Chapter 12

"You okay, moonbrain?" Jayne sat on the bed and undid his heavy workboots, tossing them into the corner with a clang against the bulkhead.

River absently crossed the small shuttle to pick them up, placing them with care exactly three inches from the wall and in perfect alignment with each other. "Shiny," she said, arranging the laces.

"Only you didn't say hardly anything at chow time." He wriggled his toes in the socks his Ma had knitted.

"Nothing to say."

He gazed at her for a moment as she concentrated, then said, more conversationally, "I told you Matty finally got up the balls to ask Jolene to marry him, didn't I?"

"Yes. In that letter you got when we stopped for fuel at Wayborn." She didn't look up.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head, sniffing it experimentally to see if it would do another day. "So d'you think the Cap'd swing by Ezra if I asked? You know, when all this is over. Don't expect to get there for the wedding itself, but it'd be good to slap my little brother on the back and maybe kiss Jolene."

"No kissing other women." She stood straight and looked at him. She knew what he was doing, trying to distract her with the mundane, and she loved him all the more for it.

"Well, no, maybe not that." He grinned. "So d'you think Mal'd go for it? Only maybe you'd better ask. He's less likely to toss you out the airlock, and I can't do them puppy dog eyes to save my life."

River ran her fingers along the empty crib before joining her husband on the bed. "Yes, you can."

Jayne chuckled. "Maybe. But not for him." His face became more serious. "He'll be home soon, girl. Caleb, I mean. I miss him something fierce too, and I never thought that'd be the case. But it won't be long 'fore he's waking us up in the middle of the night with his teething."

River's mind skittered to what was happening on Lazarus. "No." She shivered.

"You okay?" Jayne asked, putting his arm around her.

"Just … cold," she lied.

"Then you get undressed and we'll snuggle a while. How does that sound?"

"Good." She dragged a smile from somewhere. "Like to snuggle."

As she stood up, pulling her dress over her head, she thought carefully, _Don't tell Simon._

_I won't,_ Freya thought back.

_He wouldn't understand. Too many memories._

* * *

Inara took control of the situation, despite feeling more than a little shocked.

"Mr Tam?" she said, stepping forward, taking the moment to study him. Tallish, with dark but thinning hair, he was wearing what were obviously expensive clothes, but not new. He didn't strike her as a man who threw anything away while there was still life in it, as so many rich men were, but they now hung on him. She wondered how long he'd been ill.

Gabriel couldn't answer as he stared at the little girl in front of him. Never in all his wildest imaginings had he contemplated that Simon would have married, let alone had offspring.

"Caleb and Hope are inside," the disconcerting child said, throwing him into even more disarray.

Regan could sense his confusion, and let her skills, learned over years of sitting on innumerable committees, take over. She stepped around her husband and down the ramp. "I'm Regan Tam," she said, holding out a hand towards the woman who had spoken, noting her poise and elegance. "Miss Serra, I presume."

Inara didn't feel particularly poised, but she smiled. "I am. But please call me Inara."

"And this is …" Regan looked down.

"I'm Bethany Tam," the little girl said, smiling wide enough to show all her teeth. "Or Bethie. And you're Grandma."

"Am I?" Regan lowered herself elegantly to her heels so they were almost the same height, and studied her. There was certainly something about the child that reminded her so much of Simon, the chin, perhaps, and maybe his nose, but for the rest …

"Yes," Bethie said firmly.

"Bethie Tam, eh?" Gabriel had found his voice, and descended the ramp to join his wife. "And is Simon … is my son your … your daddy?"

If anything the smile got wider. "Yes."

He exchanged a troubled glance with his wife.

Inara clapped her hands lightly together. "Well, there's no need for us to stand out here," she said quickly. "If our previous visitors didn't destroy the entire tea service, I think we should go inside and sit down." _Before you fall down_, she added to herself, but Bethie glanced back over her shoulder and tried not to giggle.

* * *

Gabriel looked around at the disaster area the Alliance had made of Inara's home. "I'm sorry," he said quietly to Sam. "I had hoped to be here before … this."

"What could you have done?" Sam asked, tossing cushions onto the sofa. "Beaten them off with your bare hands?"

"I don't know. Something. I still have some influence."

Dillon set a couple of chairs upright. "Mr Tam, so do I, and it was all I could do to make them go away."

"Please, call me Gabriel." He exhaled heavily. "But I still feel as if I've brought this down on you all somehow."

Sam smiled slightly. "Mr Tam … Gabriel … I'm a counsellor, an analyst, and I can assure you that there is no basis for your feelings of guilt. Of course, that won't stop you feeling them, but you couldn't have stopped this."

"Besides, this isn't the only place it's happened to," Dillon said, watching as Breed collected handfuls of broken vase.

"We've heard of half a dozen other places, all within the last day or two," his lover added.

"But I have the feeling it could have been so much worse," Gabriel said darkly, and the other men stared at him.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

Before Gabriel could respond, Inara came back into the room with a tray of mismatched cups and the largest teapot Mrs Boden had to hand. "This will have to do for now," she said, glancing down as Bethie brought in the biscuit tin. "Hopefully there's more than just crumbs in there."

Bethie shook the tin vigorously. "Think so," she said, putting it down on the table.

"Well, perhaps there _was_," Inara added, raising an eyebrow at her, then smiled at the others. "Please, sit, sit. The furniture, at least, appears to have weathered the storm."

"Tell me if there's anything they broke or damaged and you'd like replaced, Inara," Dillon said. "I can get anything to you in a few weeks."

Inara smiled but said, "I couldn't impose."

"It would be no imposition. It would be entirely my pleasure." He twinkled at her.

"And I think you're a bad man, flirting with me," Inara said, picking up the teapot. "Especially with your partner right here."

Breed laughed. "Oh, believe me, Inara, if this is the worst I see, I'll be more than happy."

Pouring carefully, Inara asked, "Where's Callum?"

The door opened and Alex came back in as she spoke. "Sorry. He won't come. Says he'd rather stay on board ship in case the Alliance take it into their heads to come back."

"Is that likely?" Sam asked.

"Probably not. Not with the flea you put in their ears." Alex smiled. "Ethan told me."

The little boy peered out around his uncle's leg. "Flea?"

"An old saying," Alex explained.

"You too, huh?" Dillon smiled. "I think you're more like your twin than you'll ever know."

"Twin?" Gabriel stared at the other man. "Have we met?"

Alex smiled. "Briefly, I think, when I was younger. But you know my mother. Eugenia Rostov."

Gabriel's eyebrows raised. "You're Alex?"

"For my sins."

"But your twin is dead." He caught himself, a frisson of guilt running through him that he was being so crass. "Forgive me, but I remember –"

Alex held up a hand. "It's a long story."

"I would be interested to hear it."

"Perhaps."

Inara tapped a cup lightly with the sugar tongs. "One lump or two?" she asked, just as Regan came back into the room.

"That's better," Mrs Tam said, having powdered her nose. "Thank you."

"And did you take the opportunity to snoop around a little?" Inara asked astutely.

The older woman was startled, but recovered quickly. "As it happens, yes. A little."

"I'd give you the tour, only I doubt the Alliance left any of the rooms untouched."

"I'm afraid not." Regan sat down, watching Bethie struggle with the lid of the cookie tin. Eventually Ethan gave her a hand, and they managed to get it off. The little girl immediately took it to stand in front of her.

"Cookie?"

"I don't usually …"

"They're Mrs Boden's," the child said. "Good, too."

"Then just one." She took it carefully between her thumb and forefinger, biting into it delicately. It was surprisingly tasty. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Bethie smiled and went to offer the tin to the others.

Regan watched her, her mind whirling with the possibilities. Just who was this extraordinary child's mother? Certainly not likely to be anyone she would have ever considered suitable for Simon, but …

"Daddy loves her," Bethie said reprovingly, turning back. "Always has. Might be a boob sometimes, but he loves her."

It wasn't just Bethie's words that shocked Regan. It was the striking resemblance to River as she said them. "Did you … did you just … read me?" The unfamiliar word tripped her tongue.

Bethie looked a little shamefaced. "Might have," she said, rolling her foot.

"Bethie." Inara's voice was perhaps somewhat sharper than intended.

"Sorry," the little girl mumbled. "Not supposed to peek."

"That's … all right, Bethie." It wasn't, not really. Regan had no idea how to deal with someone rummaging through her thoughts like that.

"Sorry," Bethie said again, looking down at her shoes, nevertheless picking up on her grandmother's anxiety.

Gabriel came to the rescue. "You know, I really don't want any tea, no matter how delicious those cookies look." He smiled down at Bethie. "Take me for a walk?" he suggested. "I think I feel the need for some fresh air, after being cooped up in that ship. And you can tell me about your … your family."

She brightened up. "Course!"

"Can we come?" Dillon asked, wanting to know more about what Gabriel had hinted at earlier. "Tea isn't really my preferred choice of beverage either, and Breed could do with some sunshine – he's getting very pasty."

Bethie giggled, back to normal after being chastised.

"I am not!" Breed protested.

"Pasty," Dillon confirmed.

"Fine," Breed said, then laughed. "You know, you only have to say you want my company."

"I'll remember that next time."

"Well, I'm going back to check on the ship," Alex put in. "Make sure there's no sign of the Alliance coming back."

"Feeling paranoid?" Breed asked.

"I've come to the conclusion that paranoia is to be cultivated around here." His voice was light, but he was obviously being quite serious.

Sam glanced at Inara, seeing the very slight dip to her head. "I'd better go look in on the other children too," he said, realising his lover wanted time alone with Mrs Tam.

"Good idea. Make sure they haven't got up to any mischief." Inara smiled at him.

"I thought I might make them tidy their rooms." He chuckled and walked out.

Bethie slid her hand into Gabriel's. "Come on, Grandpa," she said, tugging him towards the door.

"I doubt I'm ever going to get used to that," he muttered to himself.

Regan waited until only she and Inara were left before smiling at the younger woman. "It seems they've decided to leave us alone."

"It does. Perhaps they knew you needed to talk."

"Do I?"

"Mrs Tam … Regan … I used to be a Companion. I may no longer work for the Guild, but I haven't lost my skills."

"I …" Regan took a deep breath, ashamed at her apparent inability to be strong. "Simon's married." She couldn't quite get her head around the concept.

"Yes," Inara said, pouring a cup of tea and placing it carefully into the other woman's hands. "Is that so surprising?"

Regan opened her mouth a couple of times, reminding Inara of a goldfish she used to have as a child, then managed to say, "Honestly, yes."

"Was he such a boy when you last saw him?"

"No, a man. Although he was always my baby, I suppose." Regan wrapped her hands around the cup, feeling the welcome heat.

"Regan, I know about Simon and River," Inara said gently, sitting down next to the older woman. "About the agency. The donors."

Regan went pink, and a small amount of tea spilled from her cup onto the back of her hand. It was testimony to her state of mind that she ignored the pain. "How did you –"

"Simon. He found out."

"Andrew, I suppose." Regan put the cup down carefully, only then noticing the liquid on her skin, and rubbing it absently in. "He was a dear friend, but he never thought what we did was right. At least, the part where we didn't tell River and Simon." She shook her head. "I never wanted to. To me they were my children, no matter whose original cells they were."

Inara didn't speak, and the silence encouraged the other woman to talk.

"I know what you're thinking," Regan went on. "That if I felt that way I'd have listened to Simon when he told us about the letters. About the code. And I honestly can't say why I didn't."

"No?"

She had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "Well, perhaps. But I would never want to believe that I ignored it to save face."

Inara could feel her anguish, and threw her a lifeline. "Simon's happy, you know."

Regan grasped at the change of subject with both hands. "I'm sure he is. If he puts as much effort into his marriage as he did into becoming a doctor, I have no doubt she is too."

"She is. They're very well suited."

"What does she do? I mean, I can't see a woman of leisure wandering around the system."

Inara laughed. "She's the mechanic on their home."

"Mechanic?" Regan Tam had never considered herself a snob. She'd always treated their servants well, and certainly better that most of their friends. But to hear her daughter-in-law was a …

"He loves her," Inara said softly, know exactly the thoughts going through the other woman's mind without having to be a Reader.

"I …" Regan swallowed, then exhaled slowly. "Good," she said quietly. "I'm glad. Very glad."

* * *

Gabriel watched Bethie scamper ahead, a small brown dog running in front, skipping as only a child could.

"So what did you mean?" Dillon asked quietly.

"What?" He was thinking about children, and choices.

"About the Alliance, and that something could have been much worse?"

Gabriel glanced at him. "How much do you know?"

"Well, that's difficult to say. And I'm wary of saying too much to a man who didn't believe his son."

"No. I understand." Gabriel shook his head. "All I can say is that I was wrong."

"It's not me you need to apologise to."

"That's why we're here." He kept an eye on Bethie, but she was busy throwing a stick for her dog. "There are things he needs to know."

"Just him?"

Gabriel stopped, half-turning. "No. Captain Reynolds too."

"You know about him?"

"I know Simon's with him, but that's about all. I had no idea about the complexity of the relationship, about …" He gestured towards Bethie.

"And just how did you come across that little titbit of information?" Dillon couldn't help the hard note in his voice.

"I have … connections."

"Care to expand on that?"

"And if I don't? Are you intending to shoot me?" Gabriel had noticed the man's hand start to inch inside his jacket.

"Mr Tam, if you knew what was happening, you'd be more than a little wary too."

"Oh, I know more than you think."

"Dillon," Breed said quietly. "Can we not do this right now?"

His lover glared, then dropped his hand. "We need to talk properly."

"Not here, though," Gabriel said firmly.

"No."

"But to answer your question, I think if things hadn't gone wrong somehow, Miss Serra might have had a visit from the Reavers."

"What are you talking about?" Dillon demanded. "Reavers?"

"You've seen the reports. I can see it in your face. That the attacks are increasing, but some of them seem to be on targets specifically Independent."

Dillon glanced at Breed. "Maybe I have."

"It's all about control," Gabriel said, almost to himself, making the others start.

"What?"

"Taking out potential pockets of resistance."

"And you think they might have …" His voice trailed away as he looked around at the calm surroundings, unable to force his mind from imagining the horrors that could have been perpetrated here.

"No." A little voice piped up. "It's warm," Bethie said firmly. "We're out for a walk. No talking about … icky things." Her nose wrinkled. "Icky," she repeated.

Gabriel, more than a little relieved at the interruption, laughed. "You know, I think you're right."

She took hold of his hand as they moved off, swinging it backwards and forwards. "Do you want to go to the lake?"

"There's a lake?"

"And an orchard. And horses. And a boathouse but there's no boat yet, although Auntie 'Nara said she's going to buy one, but there's a treehouse that Mr Boden built after the first one got blown away, and…"

Gabriel let her talk on, amazed she could continue to chatter without apparently drawing a breath. He knew she wasn't technically related to him, but he could see so much of River in her. At that age she could be relied upon to talk until the cows came home, interested in everything, asking questions all the time, and often knowing the answers anyway. He didn't remember Simon being quite so voluble, but then he'd been busy during those early years with work, and there had been months on end when he hadn't got home until well after bedtime … A hard ball of sorrow sat in his belly at what he'd missed, hoping his son wasn't making the same mistakes, and his hand tightened involuntarily.

"Pirates."

Gabriel looked at Bethie. "What?"

"You were thinking about what games Daddy plays with me. Pirates. And he tells stories about them. So does Uncle Jayne and Uncle Hank. And Uncle Mal bought me a pirate ship of my very own, and –"

"A pirate ship?"

"In a bottle," she explained.

Gabriel had to smile. "You father was just the same."

Bethie's eyebrows went up. "Did he play pirates?"

"Once in a while, I think. With River. Although she used to prefer games with dinosaurs."

"Ethan likes them." Bethie studied him closely.

"Ethan. Is he … your brother?"

"Sort of. Serenity brother. Uncle Mal and Auntie Frey are his daddy and momma. I don't have a brother yet."

"But you mentioned Caleb …"

"He's Auntie River's." She darted forward and picked a small flower. "Do you think Grandma would like this?" she asked, looked up into his face. "Are you all right?"

Gabriel had gone pale.


	13. Chapter 13

They talked for a few minutes about nothing of importance, careful not to skirt too close to the subject of what that Tams might be guilty of again. But they discovered they had a couple of acquaintances in common, and Regan was almost animated as she imparted a piece of juicy gossip.

"I really didn't know he was capable," she said, sitting forward, her knees tight together.

"Nor I." Inara smiled. "Bella must be furious."

"Well, from what I can ascertain, they haven't slept in the same bed since that night."

"Hell hath no fury …"

"Precisely."

They laughed gently, and Inara felt it safe to broach another delicate subject.

"Regan, your husband … he's sick, isn't he?"

"Yes." Mrs Tam looked down into her half-empty cup, suddenly no longer thirsty. "Yes, he is."

"I'm so sorry."

"So am I." Regan sighed heavily. "Gabriel and I have lived separate lives for some years, and I only came back when I heard he was ill. From a third party, no less. He would never have told me."

"Too proud?"

"Too stupid." She smiled a little. "No. Pride it was. But he needed someone to look after him, make sure he did what the doctors said. After all, a wife's place is at her husband's side."

Despite her words, Inara got the impression that wasn't the only reason Regan had returned to her husband. "In sickness and in health," she murmured, echoing one version of the marriage vows she had yet to take.

"Well, we've gone through the 'for richer, for poorer' part." Regan shook her head. "Gabriel is a self-made man, and he saw his mission in life, at least at first, as acquiring wealth. Perhaps that's …" She paused, biting back on what she wanted to say, instead finishing with, "But we married for love."

"And now he's sick."

"Yes."

"It's serious?"

"Very." Regan saw the younger woman glance towards the door, and understood. "It's nothing contagious. It's genetic."

"Is that why you decided to go with donors for your children? So as not to pass it on?"

"I couldn't have children, but … yes, we both took the conscious decision not to burden them with the possibility."

Inara sipped her tea, now almost cold. "And how is his heart?"

Regan looked surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Is he susceptible to heart trouble? From a shock, perhaps?"

Regan's confusion was growing. "I don't understand."

"Only I think there's something I need to tell you."

"Oh?"

"I feel odd in breaking this to you, but I'm sure Bethie isn't going to be able to keep quiet much longer …" Inara took a deep breath. "The baby, Caleb."

"Simon's son."

"No. River's."

Regan's mouth fell open. "River? But she's a child. How can she –"

"She's a grown woman. A married woman."

Now all colour leached from Regan's face. "Married?" she whispered. "My little girl?"

"Regan, she was fourteen when you saw her last. For her, a lifetime ago. She's been through so much, seen things, done things … you can't imagine." An image flashed into Inara's mind, of River standing over a pile of dead Reavers, blood dripping from an axe, but she pushed it ruthlessly away. That wasn't something she was about to share.

"But married? With a … a baby?" This was almost too much. First Simon, married to a mechanic on board a Firefly, now her little girl with babies of her own …

"Breathe, Regan," Inara urged, patting her hand. "Breathe."

Regan drew in a ragged lungful of air, still shaking her head. "I don't believe it."

"I can assure you it's true. Her name's River Cobb now."

"Cobb?" Automatically her brain went through all the people she knew, trying to come up with a match, but after a moment she told herself to stop being stupid. This man, this … husband of River's … wasn't likely to be anyone in her circle.

Inara took a breath herself. "His name's Jayne Cobb."

"Jayne …" Regan didn't think she could be more surprised, and was wrong. "Isn't that a girl's –"

"Oh, I don't think you want to go down that particular route," Inara advised. "All you need to know is that he's River's husband, and he loves her with a pure passion."

"Can passion be pure?"

"His is." _No matter what his occupation_, Inara thought privately. "He loves her for what she is, and always will."

"And not for what she was?" Regan's astuteness was revealing.

"Well –"

Gabriel burst into the small drawing room, having run faster than he had moved in years, Dillon and Breed right behind him. "Regan, did you know?"

Regan looked up. "About River? I just found out."

He dropped onto the couch. "I don't believe it. Married. With a … a baby boy."

Bethie pushed past Dillon's legs, and immediately went to the open cookie tin, picking it up and wriggling into one of the armchairs. "Grandpa," she said, as if in total explanation of the events.

Sam walked through the open doorway, carrying Caleb, Hope holding tightly to his free hand. "I thought you might like to meet your other grandchildren," he said, smiling slightly.

Regan gathered herself, standing up to take the baby from him, settling him surprisingly naturally onto her hip. She looked into his blue eyes, and Caleb gurgled happily at her. "My, aren't you a handsome boy?" she murmured.

Caleb patted her cheek.

"And who's this?" Gabriel said, sitting forward on the couch and extending a hand to the other little girl.

Sam nudged her gently, and she walked forward, slipping her tiny fingers into his. "Hope," she said softly, smiling very shyly.

Gabriel took in her short blonde curls, her angelic expression. "You don't look like your sister," he observed.

"Hope's 'dopted," Bethie said, her mouth full of cookie. "Her momma died, and Uncle Mal said we could keep her."

"You mean he made Simon –"

Bethie gave him a look, one he recognised all too well from the times he recalled seeing River give it to Simon. "Daddy wanted to. So did Momma. Hope's my sister." She spoke slowly, as if explaining it to someone feeling particularly obtuse.

Gabriel could barely take it in. He looked up at his wife, still holding Caleb and rocking him gently backwards and forwards, then back at Hope, her thumb inching towards her mouth.

"Hope's a talented artist," Inara said quietly. "Even at her tender age. You would be amazed."

"I am already," he agreed. "That my son has children … and River …"

"It's a lot to take in."

"It is that." He shook his head. "_Run-tse duh fwo-tzoo_, this makes me even more sure we're doing the right thing," he added. "We have to get to Simon, to his friends. Warn them."

"What about?" Dillon asked. "You still haven't said."

"And I don't intend to, not until we're safely in space."

Breed glanced around the room. "You think we might be overheard?"

"Have you checked?" Gabriel gestured with both hands. "The Alliance made a mess, that's true, but there's no guarantee they didn't leave anything."

"You think –"

"No. But I'm of the same opinion as Alex. Paranoia tends to make you live longer."

"Then we talk outside." Dillon crossed his arms. "No-one's going anywhere until I know what the _diyu_ is going on."

"Mustn't swear," Bethie said automatically.

Gabriel got to his feet. "I'm not trying to tread on your toes here. I know these are your friends, not mine. But what I have to say … it's honestly better if I wait to tell everyone all together. Then if anything happens, you can honestly deny that you knew anything."

"Don't you think I should be allowed to make that choice myself?" Dillon asked.

"No."

Regan sighed. "Don't even bother trying to persuade him. When Gabriel gets a bee in his bonnet, he can be the most insufferably stubborn _hutu dan _I've ever met."

Everyone stared at her, then at Gabriel, who shocked most by laughing. "My dear, I think you know me far too well."

"You know, all of this is moot anyway," Alex said. "We have no idea where Serenity is."

"I do," Bethie said, spraying crumbs from the cookies she was still filching from the tin.

They all looked at her in surprise.

"You do?" Breed asked, going down onto his knees next to her. "Dare I ask how?"

"Saw Auntie Frey's thoughts." She giggled, wiping at her dress. "Not happy."

"Are they all right?" Alex asked.

"Shiny. But Auntie Frey was angry at Uncle Mal for a while."

"What about?"

"Everyone thinks Uncle Mal's going to get shot ." For some reason she giggled again.

"And this is funny … how?"

Inara took hold of Bethie's chin, turning it towards her. "Bethie, dearest, where are they going?"

"Whitefall," she said, knowing that tone of voice was one not to be trifled with. "See Patience."

The ex-Companion's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Got a job."

"Should I know the name?" Alex asked.

Inara stood up, unable to hide the smile playing across her lips. "Let's just say Mal and Patience tend to have something of a volatile relationship."

"Then that's where we need to be," Gabriel said firmly, straightening his coat into place.

* * *

It didn't take long for arrangements to be made, and it was decided to take Alex's ship instead of both.

"If the Alliance do drop by again," Alex explained, "at least they won't recognise it. And you can say it's a client."

"Besides, Callum's staying," Dillon added.

Inara wasn't happy. "I don't need a babysitter."

Dillon shook his head. "This has nothing to do with you, Inara. I just don't want to have to explain to Mal how his children and his friends came to be locked up."

"If you really think something's likely to happen then we perhaps we should –"

"No. Even worse."

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"You were suggesting you come with us. And you know damn well that isn't going to happen."

She was getting annoyed. "Dillon, as much as I like you, you can't tell me what to do. I'm a grown woman."

"Then act like one. Mal left the kids with you for a reason. He needs to know they're safe – well, safer than with them. And Callum's staying just to make that a bit stronger. He's very good with a gun, and can fly the ship perfectly well. If need be he can get you all out of here in under ten minutes." He took her hand. "Humour me, Inara."

Her eyes narrowed. "You know, you look just like Mal when you do that."

Dillon laughed. "Only he isn't sly nor quite as handsome as me."

"Well, considering the number of times I've seen him wear a dress …"

"And me in a permanent relationship. If only I'd known," Dillon added dryly.

"If nothing else, just to see you trying to suggest that to Mal would be worth it." She sighed. "But all right. Leave the ship. Callum can pretend to be some bigwig who's in need of counselling."

"Something along the lines of inability to consummate his relationships?" Alex suggested, a twinkle in his eye.

"I'll let you tell him that," Dillon said, grinning widely.

Regan wasn't happy to be leaving so soon, though. "Can't we stay a little longer?" she asked, a rare note of pleading in her voice.

"I'm sorry, no," Gabriel said. "We'll barely have time to make it to Whitefall as it is." But he understood her reluctance, feeling it himself. "You'll see them again."

"Will we?" Regan watched Bethie turn a page of the book she was reading to Hope and Caleb. "What if they don't let us?"

"I know, Regan. But they're our grandchildren."

"No, they're not." She turned hot, suspiciously moist eyes on him. "They're those other people's, and we just bought them."

He pulled her into his arms in a rare display of physical affection. "And they wouldn't be here otherwise."

"I don't think Simon's going to consider that's enough," Regan whispered from the depths of his chest.

* * *

Now Inara was watching the Vanguard take off, and a small part of her wished, despite all the reasoned arguments certain people had put forward, that she was going too. Not entirely from any sense of loyalty to Mal, either. If truth be told, she really wanted to be a fly on the wall when the Tams met their son-in-law.

"Uncle Jayne will be good," Bethie said, standing next to her.

"I hope so." Inara couldn't help but smile, though. "You'll let me know what happens?"

"Bad to peek," the little girl admonished.

"What, even a teeny tiny bit?"

"Well …" Her grin widened. "If you ask me to …" she added slowly. "If you ask."

Ethan ran out of the house behind her, swerving past, the dogs barking furiously at the end of their leads. "Going to play, Auntie 'Nara," he called over his shoulder as Ben and Hope hurried after him.

Bethie watched them go, until the temptation was too great and she took to her heels as well.

"Don't go near the lake!" Inara called.

"We won't!"

Inara felt a tug at her dress, and she looked down. Jesse, her big brown eyes hopeful, held up her arms. "Play, Auntie 'Nara?" she asked.

With barely an effort, Inara lifted the youngest Reynolds up onto her hip. "Where's Caleb?" she asked.

"Ms Boden. Bein' fed mush."

"Then would you like me to braid your pretty hair?"

Jesse nodded firmly, said hair falling around her face, and Inara laughed, turning and walking sedately back into the house.


	14. Chapter 14

The Vanguard class vessel, named _Columbine_ by the owner's mother, cut through the emptiness of space, hurrying on towards Whitefall.

Regan Tam sat back in the comfortable armchair, and wondered again at the luxury she found herself in. Admittedly, it wasn't as if she had ever lived in squalor, but this was something else. When they'd first been shown to their cabin she'd taken off her shoes just so she could walk barefoot through the apparently ankle-deep carpet. Gabriel had watched, an indulgent smile on his lips, then done the same, just to keep her company.

Not that he let himself have too much fun. He'd been locked up with the others for hours after they'd taken off, and their faces when they'd come out told her all she needed to know.

At the moment he was standing at the window, looking out into the black, and she could tell by his back that he was willing the ship to travel faster.

She took the opportunity to slip the capture from her pocket and press play again, making sure the sound was still turned off, and she had to smile. Inara had given it to her, and it made her heart warm to see the children, all of them, playing in the orchard. As the capture centred on Bethie, the little girl grinned widely, showing all her teeth, and the sunlight caught on the silver teddy bear hanging on a chain around her neck.

"You shouldn't have that," Gabriel said softly.

She looked up guiltily. "I … I thought you were …"

"Preoccupied?" he supplied, then smiled. "You do know, if anyone finds that, they could make the connection."

"That these are our grandchildren?"

"Yes." Gabriel wasn't going to say it again, that they weren't. Regan needed something to hold onto, at least until Simon made it perfectly clear they were never allowed to see the children again. And he knew that was going to happen, deep in his very soul. He wasn't even going to hold it against the young man.

"Then I won't let anyone find it." She touched the screen with the tip of one finger, almost as if she could feel Bethie's hair.

"Can I see? Properly?" He held out a hand, but it was a request, not a demand.

"If you let me see the posy Bethie gave to you."

His eyebrows went up. "Posy?"

"Gabriel, since I doubt very much that you've taken to picking wild flowers …"

He laughed, a welcome sound. "You know me too well." He reached inside his jacket, removing a small bunch of blossoms tied with a red hair ribbon, somewhat crushed now from being in his pocket. "And you're right. Bethie gave them to me." He handed them to her.

There was still a faint scent of summer on the blooms, although that could have been from the herbs intertwined with them.

"They're pretty," she said, looking up at him. "What are they?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. That's why we had a gardener."

"Three."

"As you say." He took the posy back, fingering the petals. "But I think one of the herbs is Rosemary. And there's something in the back of my mind about it meaning something."

"It's for remembrance." She felt a tug on her heart. "Rosemary is for remembrance. It's in Hamlet."

"Ah, yes." He smiled. "I think it's deliberate."

"You think Bethie understood the significance?"

"I think so."

Regan looked down at the capture, at the image frozen on the child's face. "She's very bright."

"Just like River at her age."

"We have to stop them, Gabriel."

"We will. And she's safe back on Lazarus."

Her eyes flicked back to his face. "And Simon?"

He went down onto his heels, hearing his joints creak alarmingly. "Trust me, Regan. Trust me."

She gazed into his eyes, then nodded, handing over the capture so he could look at the children playing.

* * *

"So that's her." Goff lowered his head enough to look through the small window at the young woman sitting in the centre of the floor, playing with the toys.

"It is."

"The one who controls Reavers."

Quintana sighed, shaking his head. "Don't be misled by the way she looks."

Chiang Goff had arrived at the complex only a short while before, insisting on being shown the girl, but what he saw made him doubt the veracity of the project. "She's playing with dolls, for God's sake."

"They keep her amused." Quintana peered in. "Petty used to keep her sedated a lot of the time, and controlled her hormones. Now that the drugs are out of her system, she's returning to normal."

"Normal?" Goff looked at him sharply. "Is that a word that can be used in regards to her?"

"Of course." Quintana smiled slightly. "And when she's fully recovered, she's going to help us of her own free will."

"You can promise that, can you?"

"She'll see the worth in my arguments."

Goff wasn't convinced. "Emil –"

"Wait and see."

The young woman suddenly looked up, her dark eyes piercing through the small window, and Goff took a step back. "Is it … safe?"

Quintana laughed. "Perfectly. She can't get out. But that's for her own good. I wouldn't want her wandering the corridors. There are some areas of the complex that could be considered hazardous, and I don't want her hurting herself."

"I'm more concerned about my own skin," Goff said quietly.

"And to that end I would suggest you don't go exploring beyond the main area. We wouldn't want you to end up at the bottom of a disused well or something, would we?" Quintana smiled, trying to warm away the other man's misgivings. "Besides, the die is cast. And soon the Alliance will feel our wrath, striking at their very heart." He looked up, his pale eyes almost gentle. "I'm sorry you'll no longer be a Parliamentary Member."

"I'm not. They're dinosaurs, with not a forward thought amongst them." He allowed his ambition to show briefly. "When I'm in charge, we won't have any more of this … shillyshallying."

Quintana closed the cover across the window. "Then let's go and drink to the new order, shall we?"

Goff nodded. "Good idea. I could do with a whisky." Anything to get away from the memory of those dark eyes burning into his, and the irrational belief that she was pulling his thoughts right out of his mind.

* * *

"It's been nearly two weeks!"

Klaus Ubermann, Commander of the ASV Iolanthe, looked up from where he was checking reports into the angry face of Captain Gregory Bennett. "And we've been more than hospitable." They were in his private quarters, slightly more friendly than the rest of the ship, but only a little.

"That's not the point!" Bennett dropped into the seat opposite, still glaring. "We have to get back to work, otherwise I'll have nothing but fresh air and promises to pay what's left of my crew, and you're not helping."

"I'd have thought you would want us to catch these space pirates."

Bennett exhaled explosively. "They weren't pirates."

Ubermann smiled slightly. "So you're still convinced it's Reavers?"

"That's what it looked like."

"Captain Bennett, Reavers don't leave survivors. If they even existed."

"Neither do space pirates. And I resent the implication that I don't know what I saw." He was grumpy, and that was manifesting as intense annoyance, particularly as the more he thought about it the more he was convinced it wasn't ordinary Reavers anyway.

"I don't think I implied anything. But you were hurt, concussed, and in that situation you may simply not be remembering things properly."

"And the rest of my men? You suggesting they're labouring under the same hallucination?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't talked to them personally."

"Maybe you should."

"They were all interviewed, and their statements are on file." Ubermann sat back. "I can assure you, we are doing everything in our power to catch these … criminals."

"And in the meantime me and mine are sitting here on your ship twiddling our thumbs."

"That can't be helped. Your ship was impounded."

"You think I don't know that? And I've been wracking my brain to figure out a reason why."

"You should be grateful. The Alliance is repairing it for you. It will be returned in due course."

"And how long is that likely to be?" Bennett leaned forward, putting his fist on the table. "When I lose all my other contracts and can't afford to keep her running anyway?"

"You'll be fairly compensated."

"Can I have that in writing?"

Ubermann shook his head. "Captain, I suggest you go and get on with your own business, and let me get on with mine."

Bennett glared at him, but he could see there was no moving the man. He got to his feet. "Five days. That's all I'm prepared to give you," he warned, shaking his finger. "Five days. Then either you take us back to my boat, or you arrange passage. At no charge." He strode out, letting the door slide closed behind him.

Ubermann didn't move for a long minute, then reached out a hand to the com. "Bradshaw."

"_Sir."_

"Do we still have it?"

"_It's getting fainter, but we're still on track."_

"Same direction?"

"_Yes, sir."_

"Let me know immediately if it changes course, or becomes too faint. I want these 'Reavers' in restraints before the week is out."

"_Yes, sir_."

The com went dead, and he sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled before his chin. He didn't believe in Reavers. His might be a new command, but he knew the Alliance would never have allowed Miranda.

He smiled. They'd been lucky, picking up the engine signature from the hull of Bennett's freighter, then managing to locate the same trace in the black before it degraded too far. He was determined to follow it back to its base.

Besides, it wouldn't do his career any harm at all to be the one who showed the Reavers to be the cowardly invention of the Independents that he knew them to be.

* * *

The sweet smell of incense was strong in the air, so he knew she'd been meditating, sitting naked on the floor of their bunk, trying to reach that place of inner calm her mentor had shown her.

Not for the first time Mal wished he could meet that man, to shake his hand and thank him for saving her. Freya had said that captures of Book reminded her of him, and occasionally he wondered if the two had been related.

"He didn't talk about his past much," Freya had continued. "Amon was one of the most open people I've ever met, but his previous life was private. I know he had brothers, and a sister, and that he grew up on a farm, but that's about all. He never even told me his last name."

"He didn't need to tell you to save you, _ai ren_. Still, wouldn't surprise me to find out him and Book were cut from the same cloth. 'Though I can't help but admit I have a more than healthy curiosity about the Preacher's youth."

"You know what curiosity did to the cat."

"Ain't no cat, Frey."

She had successfully derailed his train of thought at that point, and he smiled to remember it. Still, there was no sign of her now. Climbing back up the ladder, he glanced into the kitchen, but that was empty, so he strolled down the staircase towards the common area, hearing voices rising to meet him.

As he reached the bottom step he could see Simon in the infirmary, tending someone sitting on the medbed. The young man moved, and Mal's heart jumped a little to see Freya was his patient. Still, she didn't look like she was hurt, so he merely leaned against the wall to listen in to their conversation.

"You know this is only a temporary measure," Simon said, injecting a painkiller into her neck.

Freya held her breath until he'd finished. "I know. And thank you."

"They _will_ get less effective if you keep needing them like this."

She sighed. "I know. But there's not much I can do about it. It's your sister."

"The psychic overflow?"

Nodding, she eased her neck. "I try and block it, and it works for a while, but there are splinters, and my mind catches on them and makes me bleed."

He looked at her. "You know that sounds … slightly crazy, don't you?"

"Only slightly?" Freya smiled tiredly at him. "Simon, I'm counting on the gunplay at Patience's to distract me."

"Ain't gonna be no gunplay," Mal said from the infirmary doorway. "And maybe you oughtta consider that drug Simon offered before." He crossed to the medbed and put his hand on her shoulder.

Freya shook her head at him. "Heretofen. No. Seriously, no. This is bad enough. Feeling deaf and blind would be worse."

"How do you know?" He went on quickly before she could speak, "I mean, it might just take the edge off, if Simon used the right dose." He looked up at the doctor. "Could you?"

Simon shrugged slightly. "Probably. It might be hit and miss for a while, but I could probably work out the right amount to block the worst of it without it leaving you feeling debilitated."

"You need to listen to him, Frey. He's the doc. He knows what he's talking about. Even if I ain't too sure what he means by debilitated."

She wasn't going to let him change the subject, particularly as his vocabulary was a lot wider than he usually let on, and glared at him. "You're the worst patient I know!" she said accusingly. "Since when did you do what he told you without arguing about it?"

"That's me. Not you."

Freya pushed him to one side and stood up from the medbed, only her knees gave a little. Mal was there, his arms under hers. "What …"

"Doc," Mal said urgently.

Simon wasn't phased. "It's that particular painkiller. It has a slight sedative effect." At the look the pair of them gave him, he shrugged. "You might as well lie down again, Frey. Here or in the guest quarters, it won't make much difference."

"You doping my wife?" Mal demanded to know, even as he made Freya get back onto the medbed.

"She said she didn't sleep well last night, and as a doctor I prescribe a couple of hours rest before she has to make the daring rescue to save you."

The man in question narrowed his eyes. "I told you, there ain't gonna be gunplay."

"Mal, I keep notes on everyone, you know that, don't you?" Simon said by way of answer.

"Well, I seen you writing stuff in a journal, yeah," Mal admitted.

"Any good doctor keeps notes on his patients. And I have to tell you that yours are thicker than everyone else's. Put together."

"I'm sure that ain't the case –"

"Do you want me to show you?"

Mal stared at the other man, yet again struck by how much he'd grown since he'd come on board. "Not really, no."

"Then take my word for it. You seem to be a magnet for bullets, knife wounds, laser burns –"

"I get the picture. And I promise you, I don't intend getting shot today."

"Hmmn."

"Simon might, though," Freya said, unable to keep her eyes open. "And believe me, we're going to talk about this," she promised, her words slurring faintly. "Soon as I … wake …"

The young doctor checked her pulse. "I'll look forward to it," he said quietly.

"How long will she be out?" Mal asked, stroking his wife's hair.

"It's mild, and wears off pretty quickly. A couple of hours, no more."

"Good." He smiled somewhat wickedly. "Wouldn't want to miss the fireworks." He walked out before Simon could decide whether he meant the possible gunplay on Whitefall, or Freya's displeasure when she surfaced.

Mal climbed the steps up to the cargo bay, not surprised to see Jayne working out, repetitively lifting the bar above his chest, breathing in as he lowered it again. He must have been close to finishing, because he slid the bar back into the cradle and sat up, picking up a bottle of water from the floor and taking a good slug.

"Should you be doing that without a spotter?" Mal asked, closing the gap.

Jayne looked round at him. "Never used to have one, not 'til the Preacher. And Frey's not inclined at the moment."

"You could ask Zoe. Or me."

"Figured you were busy plannin' how to not let Patience shoot ya." He grinned and wiped his neck with the towel he had in his lap.

"There's going to be no shooting," Mal said firmly, perching on a crate.

"Believe that when I see it." Jayne's eyes fell on Bethie's own little workout bench next to him. "Seems kinda weird," he admitted. "Doing this, but not having the short stub doing it with me."

"I know what you mean," Mal agreed. "Ship seems all too quiet without them all running riot." He looked up towards the shuttle. "How's River faring?"

"Okay." Jayne was suddenly wary. "Why?"

"Just asking. Seeing as I'm captain, it behoves me to keep an eye on my crew."

"Behoves?"

Mal had to smile slightly at the confused look on the big man's face. "Let's just say it's in my job description."

"So nothing to do with the fact Freya's feeling my girl's anxiety and it hurting, then."

Mal decided he really had to give up being surprised by his ex-mercenary. "That … might've had something to do with it."

Jayne sighed. "River knows, and she's sorry. But this Mara Tam … the closer we get to her, the worse she feels. Last night she was thrashing about in bed fit to bust something, and it took me a long damn while 'fore she'd wake up. Scared me."

"You?"

"Yeah. She's my moonbrain, Mal."

"I know." Well, that explained Freya's restlessness. "So we're going in the right direction?"

"River thinks so."

"Any idea how far?"

"Nope." Jayne leaned on his elbows. "Just that it's getting worse."

"Maybe she should join Freya in the infirmary. Simon's made her take a nap."

Jayne shook his head. "Nah. My girl don't exactly get on well with needles."

"No, that's true."

"Mal, you down there?" Hank's voice rang through the superstructure.

Mal looked up to see the man hanging over the top catwalk. "I'm here."

His pilot rested his forearms on the railing. "Just thought you'd like to know Whitefall's coming up, so you might wanna get that body armour on."

"I ain't gonna get shot!"


	15. Chapter 15

Whitefall hadn't changed. Still a ball of rock tinted mostly yellow, with the occasional flash of dirty green where scrub had managed to grab hold. As they dropped into atmo, Mal couldn't help the thought creeping across his mind that maybe his crew were right and he was going to get shot again, but he ruthlessly pushed it away.

"Mal?"

He turned, seeing Simon standing in the doorway. "What can I do you for, doc?"

"I just thought you'd like to know." The young man moved forward, lowering his voice. "I've just taken the first batch of AntiPax out of the replicator."

Mal glanced at Hank, but the pilot seemed intent on not letting Serenity shake herself to bits. It felt like the entry couplings needed adjusting again, or some such. "How many?" he asked, turning back, keeping his own tone quiet. "How many doses?"

"Enough for all of us, and a dozen more."

"Good. Good." The weight on his shoulders eased a little.

"I still can't guarantee it's going to work, Mal," Simon said.

"But it's the one for those turned Reaver, right?"

Simon sighed. "I know what you want me to say. That Freya and River can be injected and it will stop them … changing, if they're exposed to Pax. But I can't say it. I won't. I simply don't know."

Mal put his hand onto the younger man's shoulder. "I know, Simon. I ain't asking you to perjure yourself."

"Just so long as you understand."

"Oh, I do. And what about the other one? The one they used on Hank."

"It's in the ViroStim as we speak. I should have a batch ready in five days."

"Only five?" Mal was surprised. "It took twice as long for the other one."

"Well, I don't need to recalibrate," Simon explained. "And this version of the antidote is simpler than the other."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Probably good. It's a simple counter-reagent, and as such it merely mimics –"

Mal put up his hand. "I get the picture, doc."

Simon had to smile. "I doubt it, but it doesn't matter. Five days."

"And I'm guessing you can't guarantee this one'll work either."

"Actually I probably can. We know it worked on Hank, so I see no reason it won't work on anyone else."

"Just those that ain't potentials."

"If we're right about those particular individuals who become Reavers."

Mal laughed unexpectedly. "Awful lot of if's, doctor."

"That's the way of life."

Beyond them, outside the ship, the sky had turned blue, and they dropped through a layer of fluffy white clouds towards the surface.

"Where do you want me to put down, Mal?" Hank asked, glancing over his shoulder as Serenity ceased bucking under his hands.

"Patience's compound. We're here on legitimate business – no need to go sneaking about."

The dust settled around the Firefly, and the ramp lowered. Mal walked out into the cool late morning, Jayne and Zoe at his back as usual, but was surprised to see one of Patience's men come out to meet them rather than the old woman herself.

"Captain Reynolds," the man said. "I'm Jed Macauliffe."

"I remember." Mal hitched his thumbs into his gunbelt, not far from his pistol but not so close as to be threatening. "You were at the play we did."

Macauliffe smiled tightly. "That I was. Never been one for plays, but it was okay. Got yourself some pretty folks on board, though."

"Yeah, that's surely the case. Although not all the girls were mine." He wondered at the air of tension.

"Not talking about …" Macauliffe bit off the words. "You're here for the pick-up," he said instead.

"That we are. And I'm more than a little upset Patience ain't here to greet us. Seeing as she specifically requested we do the job."

"Well, you see … there's been a kinda hitch."

"Hitch." Mal remembered Patience using just those words once, and he'd ended up ruining yet another shirt, and having to mend his brown coat. His hand started to move slowly towards the butt of his gun. "What sort of hitch?"

Macauliffe suddenly looked … abashed. "Well …"

"Come on, boy. Spit it out."

"Ms Patience has been kidnapped."

Mal couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. "That old _shao po_ got herself snatched?" He could hear Jayne chuckling, and he knew without even looking that Zoe was almost smiling.

"Yesterday morning," Macauliffe confirmed, his ears turning pink.

"And …" Serenity's captain gave himself a mental telling off and pulled himself together. "Just how did that little event happen?"

"Heading into town. Going to church."

Mal's jaw dropped slightly. "Church?"

"Ms Patience is a God-fearing woman," Macauliffe said in stout defence of the woman who paid his wages.

"Doesn't stop her stealing and killing," Mal pointed out. "Both of which were strictly prohibited by the Ten Commandments, if my memory serves."

"Along with coveting your neighbour's ass," Jayne put in.

There was a pause, then Macauliffe shook his head. "Anyway. She got ambushed. Shot a couple of my men."

Now Mal understood. "Ah. And you were with her?"

Macauliffe stared down at his boots. "I'm her foreman," he said by way of explanation.

"I take it that means yes." Mal managed to stop his lips twitching. "You know who's got her?"

The other man looked back up. "Yep. Creel. Walter Creel. He has a place not too far from here."

"Then why ain't you gone in and got her?"

Macauliffe shrugged. "Creel said if we tried he'd kill her."

"So what does he want?" Zoe asked, stepping down closer to her captain.

"For Ms Patience to sign over most of her land holdings. And the buildings she has in town. Plus the water rights to –"

"Pretty much everything, I'm guessing."

"Pretty much."

Mal glanced at Zoe, who raised an eyebrow. "So you know he ain't gonna be letting her go, don't you?"

Macauliffe nodded. "He ain't gonna let her tell the Alliance on him, that's for sure."

"So …" Mal made it look like he was thinking. "You'd be Patience's representative, then."

"I'm her foreman," Macauliffe repeated, but his brow was furrowed as he tried to gauge what was going on.

"Then you'd be willing to make a deal on her behalf?" Mal suggested, hearing Jayne growl behind him but ignoring the big man.

"A deal?"

"We go in, get your boss back for you. You pay us. You know – a deal." He spoke easily, as if it was the sort of thing they did every day.

"I don't know –"

"Be cheap. Fairly." Mal watched as the man evidently had to think hard to make up his mind. Probably never used it much, except to steal whatever Patience told him to steal. He could almost hear the cogs turning. "You know, the longer you leave it, the more likely she's gonna come back with a few holes in her. If she comes back at all," he added.

"Cheap?" Macauliffe asked.

"Even Patience'll be surprised."

"Then you got a deal. How're you gonna do this?"

"This Creel – he have a spread like this?" Mal glanced around at the compound.

"Pretty similar. Ain't got no high walls to speak of, and but there's few more outbuildings."

"And the landscape?"

"House sits back against a slight rise. But look –"

Mal didn't let the man air his concerns. "Sounds ripe for the plucking."

"Sir," Zoe said softly. "I think we need to discuss a few things."

He glanced at her, noting the tightness around her mouth. "Shiny." He looked back at Macauliffe. "You stay there."

They walked back into Serenity's dark interior.

"Sir, have you lost the last few of your senses?" Zoe asked, keeping her voice down.

"Is that what you think?"

"I do."

Mal glanced at Jayne. "You too?"

"Hell, Mal, if the old biddy's like to get herself shot, I say it's fair time."

"And if she dies before she can tell us what she knows?"

Zoe took a deep breath. "Sir?"

"We don't go get her, we may never find out who put her up to this," Mal said quietly.

His first mate gazed inscrutably. "You knew this was a trap?"

"Sorry, didn't I mention that?" Mal could do innocence pretty well when he wanted.

"No, sir, you didn't."

"Must've slipped my mind." He smiled at her. "Anyway, not a trap this end. But I'm figuring maybe it is the other, and I'd kinda like to know who's behind it. And as much as I agree with Jayne and it's time Patience got herself shot, if she ends up dead then that's gonna make it a lot more difficult to get the intel out of her."

Jayne looked at the other man, something approaching admiration in his eyes. "You're one sonuva bitch, Mal."

"Why, thank you, Jayne." Mal turned back and strode down the ramp. "Macauliffe, better get any men of yours still capable of firing a gun together."

"Do you have a plan?" Patience's man asked.

"That I do. Now, here's what we're going to do …"

* * *

Chiang Goff knew he was being watched, and it wasn't just by the ubiquitous surveillance cameras. Every time he'd left his quarters since he arrived he'd felt someone follow him, even catching sight of their reflection in a polished surface a couple of times. Different faces, the same objective. Keeping an eye on him. And it was starting to be annoying. Surely they were all on the same side, working towards the same end, and that led inevitably to the same question – why were they not trusting him now?

It would have been amusing if he wasn't the object of such scrutiny, and he could imagine taking pleasure in mocking anyone else for such paranoia. But he was a politician. It was part of the job description, and had stopped the political equivalent of a knife in the back more than once. So here he was, wondering just why his paranoia should be justified right now.

Glancing over the crates in the landing area, he could see his shadow leaning against the wall, dragging on a cigarette. Smoke curled thinly above him.

Goff smiled tightly. He'd made a great play after dinner about heading back to his ship to do some work, needing to have peace and quiet, and went straight there. He'd hoped the man following him wouldn't think to consider the small escape hatch in the other side of the vessel, and he'd managed to worm his way around the boxes and cages at the perimeter until he was only a few feet from the corridor.

Biding his time, he waited, drawing on every ounce of willpower to stay still, just watching the other man. It seemed an age, but it finally paid off. The man dropped the still glowing cigarette end to the floor, grinding it out beneath one booted foot. After barely a minute of nicotine-free air, he dragged a packet from inside his coat, pulling another white stick from it and placing it between his lips.

Goff readied himself. There was the flare from a lighter, and he moved, taking advantage of the temporary blindness of his shadow to cross the small space and move into the darker area of the corridor. He paused, listening hard to try and tell if he'd been noticed, but there was no sign of movement. He nodded slightly and moved off, determined to find out just what Emil Quintana was hiding.

* * *

"You sure?" Mal asked, looking hard at his albatross. "'Cause if you ain't –"

"I'm sure."

"Well, if you're sure …" He adjusted his grip on the reins, his borrowed horse more than a little skittish. "Only seeing as how we're the diversion, I'd kinda like to be sure I'm gonna get out of this without bloodshed."

"I'm sure, Captain." She sat easily in her saddle, looking like a young woman out for a pleasant ride, despite the two gunbelts Jayne had adapted for her fastened securely across her chest. "Our friend here knows the house, and can tell me where Patience is likely to be kept. There will be no bloodshed."

"Good. Good." He didn't sound convinced, even to himself. He looked once more up the track towards the big house just visible over the ridge. "Okay, people. Let's go do this nice and easy, and we'll all get home in time for tea."

River smiled, and with just a nudge of her knees her mount turned and she galloped away, her hair flying behind her. Zoe sighed and followed, one hand kept close to the Mare's Leg strapped to her thigh. Macauliffe shrugged, then dug his spurs into his own horse's flanks and chased after them both.

"It seem to you she's enjoying this a mite too much?" Mal asked no-one in particular.

Jayne merely looked pained. He'd been told in no uncertain terms that grenades were not to be invited to this particular shindig, and he'd sulked pretty much the whole way over. Even River riding next to him, her dress floating around her hips and giving him an excellent view of an expanse of milky white skin, wasn't enough to get him out of his funk. He had briefly considered gutting Macauliffe, since the man had taken the opportunity to get a good eyeful as they rode along, but he decided to keep that until he was really bored.

Seeing that he wasn't likely to get much in the way of an answer, Mal urged his horse forwards along the road, and he actually found he was enjoying himself. It had been too long since he'd ridden, and being outside, hearing the sounds of cattle not that far off … if they weren't on a job he would have taken his time.

As it was it didn't take long before they were heading into the main area in front of the house, and Mal could see what Macauliffe had meant. Walter Creel obviously thought a lot of himself, and the house reflected that, with an expanse of bottle glass windows and a verandah that went all around the lower floor decorated with curlicues and other fancy adornments. Mal, a man who hardly ever bought anything unless it was practical, thought it looked like one of the whorehouses Jayne used to frequent.

Except it had to be one of the houses on one of the more rambunctious moons, at least taking into account the two very large men with very big guns standing on the verandah and looking at them like they were about to shoot.

"Gentlemen," he called, smiling, pulling on the reins and making his horse come to a halt. "I'm looking for Walter Creel. Are either of you fine folks be that person?"

One of the men, a mountain with red hair and an enormous handlebar moustache, stepped down to the ground. "Nope. Mr Creel ain't here."

"Now, that's a shame." Mal slid from the saddle. "Any idea when he'll be back?"

"What's your business here?" the second man asked, also stepping down into the sun, his bald head reflecting the light.

"Well, I'm a rancher, and I'm considering buying a spread around these parts, and I heard tell Walter Creel is the man to talk to about getting a seed herd. Seems he has good breeding stock."

"That he has," the redhead agreed. "But there ain't none for sale."

"That's unfortunate." Mal managed to look most put out. "Only I'd really rather hear it from the man himself. I've got good coin –" He patted his pocket. "– and the inclination to spend it here. Why should that cause anyone any fuss?"

Red was insistent. "Mr Creel would tell you the same. Only he isn't due back tonight until late. He has business in town."

"Then permaybehaps I can call again tomorrow." Mal could see the bald man flexing his trigger finger slightly. "Like I said, all I'm looking to do is buy some cattle."

"And I told you there's none for sale." Red stepped forward. "Best you be on your way. Before I get to thinking you've got some other reason for dropping by."

Mal held up his hands, hearing something on the edge of his attention that his inner captain was telling him was important, but that he was ignoring. "Relax, friend," he said instead. "Just tell your boss that I called, and that I'll be back in the morning. Maybe we can do some business after –"

The click of two safeties being removed was loud, but they were drowned in the noise of something else, something that began to rattle the ground beneath his boots.

"Mal!" Jayne interrupted, yelling and pointing frantically. "Stampede!"

"What the hell?" Mal barely had time to look and see a wall of livestock bearing down on him before it was too late.


	16. Chapter 16

Chiang Goff paused at the cross-junction, checking left and right before continuing straight ahead. He'd encountered hardly anyone, not even guards, and in a perverse way that piqued his interest more than anything. When Quintana had given him the tour, he'd specifically said this corridor led to deeper layers, but more unstable and liable to collapse.

"We wouldn't want you walled up down there, would we?" Quintana had joked, but something in his manner had been a little off.

What was more odd, though, was the lack of security cameras. He'd had a hard time avoiding them on his way from the docking area, but then he hadn't always been a Member of the Alliance Parliament, or even a politician, and the training he'd received as a young man had certainly come in handy. He was ready, and more than capable, of taking someone out if he needed, but he considered that grossly over the top. Perhaps it was these long dormant skills that were tickling his curiosity now, but he was sure Quintana was hiding something. And he was going to find out.

* * *

Jayne watched in disbelief as the cattle raced towards them, and he felt his horse began to panic. It was only his quick reflexes, honed from years of shooting first, that kept him alive this time. Leaping for the fence next to him, he managed to catch hold, hooking one foot securely around an upright, before leaning down and grabbing the back of Mal's shirt, hauling him to comparative safety as several thousand tonnes of beef on the hoof thundered past.

Mal clung to the rickety-feeling corral fence, exchanging a grateful look with the man who saved him, at the same time yelling angrily, "River!"

_Little souls, big world._

_What the diyu do you think you're doing?_ It was amazing the amount of fury he could get into his thoughts.

_Diversion?_ came the little voice back.

_Did you have to turn us into hamburger to do it?_

_They won't hurt you. They promised._

He raised a mental eyebrow, visualising what he was going to do to the young woman when he got his hands on her. _River …_

_I'm going to get Patience_, the psychic interrupted hurriedly, and he was alone in his head.

Mal glared at Jayne, perched up next to him.

"Yeah, Mal, I know," the big man said wearily. "I'll speak to her."

"It ain't like she can blame hormones," Mal complained, grabbing at the post as an errant cow nudged the upright with her shoulder. "Not no more."

Jayne scrambled higher, a horn catching the sole of his boot. "It's that Mara girl, Mal. Has to be. Making her all –"

"Crazy?" Mal's temper was getting shorter by the moment.

"I said I'll speak to her."

"Well, see that you do. She's your wife. You need to have some control over her." Mal didn't look over at the ex-mercenary, knowing the expression that was bound to be grafted onto his face.

Suddenly the cattle were gone, as quickly as they'd arrived, leaving behind churned up ground and dust hanging in the air, and a couple of heaps of rags and bones that might once have been living, breathing people.

Mal climbed off the fence, glad to reach solid ground for once. He could hear yelling from men in the distance trying desperately to stop the stampede, and he knew they had a little while. Moving closer, he looked down at the two dead men. At least, he hoped they were dead. Nothing looking like that should still be alive.

Jayne joined him. "Messy," he commented, but there was little in the 'verse beyond Reavers that turned his stomach now. Except maybe fish guts.

"Could say that."

"Glad it ain't us."

"You and me both."

Jayne pondered on the matter of life and death for a moment longer, then spoke what was really on his mind. "Are we gonna have to walk back?" he asked. "Them horses didn't exactly hang around when the stampede started."

"No walking," River called, cantering around the edge of a building, leading their two wayward mounts. "They came when I asked."

"I thought you told me there'd be no bloodshed?" Mal asked, taking the reins of his horse from her.

"On our side," she corrected. "Not on theirs."

Mal glanced back at the two bloody piles. "Not a good way to go, River."

"They would have gutted you both," she said, just as if she was discussing what to have for tea.

"Really?"

"Patience isn't the worst creature on this moon."

"Guess not." He swung into the saddle. "And talking of which, where is the old –"

She grinned. "Zoe took her to the boundary. She's waiting for us."

"We're still gonna have that talk, albatross," Mal said sternly. "_Dong mah_?"

The grin faded a little, but her eyes still sparkled. "Yes, Mal," she said meekly.

* * *

It didn't take Mal and Jayne long to reach the two waiting horsewomen, but only one of them looked pleased to see them. The one who wasn't spoke.

"Mal."

"Patience."

"Well, this is something of a predicament," the old woman went on, patting her cloud of grey hair into place.

"Not that much," Mal smiled. "A thank you'd be nice."

"I'm figuring you're intending to ask for more'n that, though," she said astutely.

"Got that right." The smile turned to a grin. "And pretty reasonable, if I say so myself."

"I'm sure you do."

"And you're gonna stick to it, since it was your man Macauliffe who agreed to the deal."

"Macauliffe?" Patience asked sharply.

"Yep. And talking of which, where's he gone?" Mal turned to River. "He was supposed to stay with you."

"As soon as he saw me coming back with Miss Patience, he took off," River supplied, shaking her head slightly as if she was muzzy.

"That was Macauliffe?" Patience intervened. "That _goushi dui gou zha zhong_!"

"I'm taking it that ain't good," Mal said, already turning his horse back towards Serenity.

"_Hwoon dahn _sold me out. Took Creel's cash and promises to be foreman of the bigger place."

"And you know this … how?"

"Creel told me. Couldn't wait to let me know." She kicked her heels into her ride's flanks. "And the bastard's got a head start on me." She galloped off, leaving the others in her dust.

Mal spurred his own mount, his superior horsemanship easily catching her up, but he didn't try and speak to her. Instead he heard River in his mind again.

_He felt wrong. But I couldn't see how. Too many trees …_

He glanced to his right, seeing her gazing at him as her horse paced his. _Ain't your fault, xiao nu_.

_I still should have known._

_Frey didn't._

_My fault …_ She shook her head, urging her ride forwards. _Can't reach her._

Mal felt his stomach tighten as he reacted to her thoughts, trying to reach out to his wife yet finding nothing. All he could feel was the wind in his face as he galloped, but this time there was no enjoyment. "Yah!" he yelled at his horse, spurring it forward.

* * *

Patience's compound soon appeared, looking exactly as they'd left it, the gates closed. From this distance, the height of the walls meant they could only just see the top curve of Serenity's neck, but Mal knew the old woman's men were waiting out of sight, ready to repel intruders if necessary. He began to relax a little, then the sound of a shuttle overhead made him tense up again.

"Creel!" Patience shouted over the sound, still galloping hard, but they were too far away to do much more than see the vessel hover over the compound, downjets deliberately causing as much turbulence as possible. They could hear shooting, but it wasn't having any effect.

As Mal and the others drew closer, they could see men hanging out of the shuttle's open doorways, firing downwards.

"Gorramit," he muttered. He'd assumed any counterattack would be on horseback, since the majority of folks on Whitefall couldn't run to a ship. Looked like he was wrong, and folks were paying for it. Macauliffe must have had a com with him they knew nothing about, and called his new employer.

The shuttle lowered until they couldn't see it behind the walls, but they were already at the gates. Mal jumped from his horse and tried the smaller door. Locked. "Jayne," he commanded.

The big man unslung his beloved Vera from his back, aimed and fired in the same movement. Chips of wood whined away, and smoke drifted skywards, but the mechanism hung brokenly. Mal drew his gun, checking the magazine automatically. River caught his eye and he nodded, watching her melt away around the wall. He glanced at the others, then slipped inside.

He had a moment before the bad guys noticed him, but only a moment. Crouching low, he ran hard and slid to a halt in a gap between a small motorised wagon and a horse trough, the others doing the same.

"So you still think there ain't gonna be no shooting?" Jayne called, ducking down as a series of bullets punctured the boarding above his head, showering him with splinters.

"Can we hold the _told you so's_ until after we get clear of this?" Mal said, somewhat peevishly. He managed a look around the compound, noting his ship was locked up tight, and smiling grimly. Freya wasn't about to let anyone on board who shouldn't be. But Creel seemed to have had a lot of men on board that shuttle, and they appeared to be on the verge of winning.

Beside him, Patience stirred. "Nice rescue," she said dryly. "Want to give me a gun so I can shoot my own way out?"

"Nope," Mal said, firing twice over the trough then ducking back. "Frame of mind you're in at the moment, you'd probably shoot me."

"You have no idea."

A familiar sounding rifle opened up, but it wasn't shooting at them. He peered over the trough, then had to grin. Freya was on top of Serenity, her perch giving her an added advantage as one of the bad guys yelled and fell from the wall, even as the Firefly's engines lit up. He couldn't see the bridge from his position, but he could imagine Hank in his chair, ready to do unto others what had been done to them, and use the much stronger VTOL jets to disorientate and possibly injure.

Only suddenly it was too late.

"What the hell …?" Mal watched in horror as another ship descended to the ground, blocking his own in. A suspiciously familiar ship. _Frey!_ he thought hard. _That your bro?_

She was already glaring at the Vanguard from her position on top of Serenity, holding on tightly as the downdraught threatened to blow her to the ground. _It is_.

He almost smiled at the red tinge, obviously more than a little annoyed. _Think you can make him stay on board 'til we get this sorted?_

_No._ She mentally gestured towards the main hatch that was already opening.

"_Cao ni niang_," he muttered. Without a second thought he aimed and fired at the bulkhead next to the door, hearing the bullet ricochet away. It left a bright shining scar in the metal, but at least the head about to appear ducked back inside.

"Good shot, sir," Zoe said, sitting up for the moment it took to fire her Mare's Leg then dropping back.

"I thought so."

_Just don't shoot my family,_ he heard River say in his mind, and for a moment he wondered what she was talking about, then had to duck back himself as water splashed over him from someone getting a little too close.

"You know, I've had enough of this," Jayne said, tugging the illicit grenade from the depths of one of the many pockets on his cargo pants.

"Jayne –" Mal ground out, aware the ex-mercenary had broken a direct order.

"What?"

They locked gazes.

"Just … don't damage my ship."

The big man grinned and snaked out from behind the trough. Despite his bulk he was able to find the cover he needed, and as Creel's men repositioned themselves to be able to continue firing he moved smoothly behind an ATV, making his way towards the shuttle.

Mal watched him, giving covering fire as best he could, knowing Freya was doing the same from her perch.

Movement on the top of the wall at the far side of the compound drew his attention and his aim, but the fluttering dress stayed his finger on the trigger. River slipped over the edge onto the catwalk that ran all the way around, and he heard a cry of pain that suggested she'd found her target.

Jayne knew what she was doing, and he felt a stab of pride in his belly as he came within throwing distance of the shuttle's entrance. _That's my girl_, he thought.

_Time, Jayne_, he heard, the words registering without passing through his ears.

He grinned wickedly. Twisting the top of the grenade, he counted to three then tossed it through the open hatchway. The men inside half-turned, but it was already too late. The explosion flipped them brokenly through the air to lie bleeding in the dust.

It didn't do the shuttle much good, either. Black smoke began to roll out and most everybody stared in stunned silence as the concussion rolled around the compound.

Most everybody. A figure detached itself from the shelter of the wall and ran for the Vanguard, diving through the gap.

"Creel!" Patience spat.

"Stay here," Mal ordered, and he and Zoe scrambled to their feet, keeping low but running fast towards the ship.

Inside Walter Creel had knocked Alex to the floor, and now held a gun on the Tams. Dillon and Breed could be heard banging on the door to the main body of the ship, but a quick bullet had destroyed the mechanism, and it was going to take a miracle to stop Creel hurting someone.

"Who … what do you want?" Alex demanded, watching the gun swing dangerously around the small bay, his jaw ringing.

"Patience dead," Creel said. "But I'll take an exit right now. And you're going to fly me out of here." His aim settled on Regan, even as Gabriel tried to keep as much of his body between them. "Or the little woman here is going to find herself with a few more holes in her."

"No!" Gabriel launched himself forward, but the gun barrel backhanded across his temple had him falling back, bleeding.

"Tell your men to get us into the air," Creel ordered, aiming at Regan. "Now. Or I start shooting."

A figure loomed up behind Creel, filling the hatchway. "You think?" it said, jabbing the butt of a huge gun into the other man's skull. Creel dropped like a stone. "_Chur ni duh_." The miracle reached down and dragged him back, tossing him unceremoniously into the corner, before asking "You folks okay?"

"Thanks, Jayne," Alex said, standing up shakily. "I didn't realise we'd landed in the middle of a war zone."

The ex-mercenary turned to the other two, noting the blood on the older man's face. "Looks like you need to see the doc."

"Jayne?" Gabriel managed to ask, shock still flooding through his system, even as Regan dropped to her knees and began to flutter around him.

"That's me. Jayne Cobb." The big man's eyes narrowed. "Do I know you?"

"Hello, Mother, Father," River said, stepping out from behind her husband.


	17. Chapter 17

"Somebody like to enlighten me as to the nature of what's going on?" Mal asked, leaning in the open hatchway. He could see a man crumpled in the corner, unlikely to be getting up any time soon, and a second man was on the deck, a woman at his side, both of them staring at Jayne and River.

Alex Rostov was standing, his hand pressed to his jaw. "Hello, Mal," he said, just as the inner doorway burst open, Dillon and Breed hurtling through, guns in their hands.

Mal raised an eyebrow. "If'n you're planning to shoot me, I'd seriously reconsider."

"Not at this juncture, no," Dillon said, lowering his weapon.

"I'm kinda pleased to hear it." Mal's tone was dry, bordering on the desiccated. "And I'm still waiting on some kind of explanation."

River glanced at him. "Captain, I think I can assist." She turned back to the two strangers. "These are Gabriel and Regan Tam. My … parents."

He straightened, stepping inside. "Your folks?"

She nodded gravely.

Gabriel Tam managed, with his wife's assistance, to stand up, for the moment ignoring the captain of Serenity. "Mr Cobb?"

"Yeah?" The big man was uneasy.

"Thank you."

"Uh … you're welcome?" Jayne glanced at River, seeing her beaming at him.

"I think perhaps we need to talk, but at a more convenient time," Gabriel went on. "Since I understand you're my … my son-in-law."

Jayne's unease came back full force. "I guess so."

Gabriel turned to Mal, trying not to smile at the big man's obvious discomfort. "And you must be Captain Reynolds."

"I suppose I must. But I'm all kinds of curious to know what you and the rest of these reprobates are doing here."

"Well …" Gabriel looked at Dillon and Alex, then back at Mal. "There's something you need to know."

"I'm sure there is, which is why I'm asking."

"Perhaps if we could remove ourselves to somewhere a little more comfortable? Since I'm afraid the story is going to take a little time."

"The only place you're going is to the infirmary," Regan said firmly, dabbing at the cut on her husband's face with a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

Mal nodded over his shoulder. "Well, if'n you come on -"

River touched his arm. "No," she said quietly. "Not yet."

Mal looked at her. "You mean he don't know."

"No."

"Simon?" Regan asked, biting her lip.

"Not yet," River repeated firmly. "But I will stay."

"You sure?" Mal lowered his head, studying her under his eyebrows. "'Cause if –"

"I'm sure."

"I can deal with this, Mal," Alex put in. "We have a stocked medical bay ourselves, and I'm sure I'm capable of putting a weave on it."

"Thanks, Alex. And after that we can -" His eyes glazed as he heard Freya's voice in his mind. _Mal._

He looked up. _Frey?_

_Better get back out here._

Pushing roughly by Jayne he ran outside. "_Jien tah dah guay_."

"You all stay back now," Macauliffe ordered. He'd appeared from nowhere, his left hand holding Patience tightly by the arm in front of him, his other pointing a gun at her temple. Somehow, probably without even planning it, he'd managed to put himself in a position where even Freya would find it hard to hit him from her angle of advantage.

"You're outnumbered," Mal said, feeling Zoe at his back, her Mare's Leg cocked and ready, River behind her, Jayne similarly placed. "So at a pinch I'd say you ain't going anywhere."

"Sure I am. And you'd better drop those guns," Macauliffe ordered. "I intend to ride out of here, and Patience is coming with me, as insurance you won't do anything stupid."

"And if you shoot her, there's nothing to stop us killing you," Mal pointed out.

"She'll still be dead."

He tried not to smile. "And that concerns me … how?" He felt his lips twitch at the look Patience was giving him.

"I'm leaving, and you're not going to stop me," Macauliffe repeated.

"Then at least let me ask one question. What the hell did you come back here for anyway?"

"Mr Creel told me to meet him here." The ex-foreman didn't look happy.

"Son, your new boss is lying in there with a cracked skull. He may or may not make it, but you sure as hell won't if you try to -"

Macauliffe fired the gun in his hand, the bullet skimming past Patience's head and ruffling her hair. She winced in pain at the sound. "I ain't playing!"

"Okay. We're shiny. You just keep your cool, Jed." Mal laid his pistol down on the ground. "No-one needs to get hurt, so why don't we find someplace a little less crowded and talk about this."

"Nothing to talk about. I want two horses and I want them here now, then we're going for a little exercise, me and Patience."

"You always were too big for your britches," the woman in question said, glaring over her shoulder at him.

"Guess it takes one to know one," he spat in return, squeezing her arm even tighter until he could feel the bones grating.

Patience swallowed a whimper and looked at Mal, letting one eyelid close briefly. Serenity's captain nodded almost imperceptibly.

For an old woman, she could move surprisingly fast. Seeing the slight acknowledgement, she let her entire bodyweight drop, collapsing to the dust, dragging Macauliffe's arm down. His finger tightened on the trigger, and he fired without thinking.

Mal felt something burn his arm, but the shock and hurt was kept at bay by adrenaline as he ignored the wound and snatched up his trusty firearm, aiming and firing at Macauliffe in one smooth movement.

Macauliffe's eyes widened a little, then more as four bullets from different guns tore into his body, shredding his heart. He was dead before he even began to fall.

"Gorramit," Mal muttered, his hand clasped over the bullet hole, feeling blood making his fingers slick. "The _hwoon dahn_ shot me!"

Patience got to her feet. "At least it wasn't me this time," she said, brushing the dust off her best dress. "Least, not personally."

* * *

Goff peered in through the thick glass, but could see nothing beyond a greenish glow. He'd come across the door after walking carefully for nearly an hour, and was on the verge of turning back, almost convinced there was nothing down here but roughly hewn corridors. The only thing that kept him going was the lack of dust, and the smooth flow of fresh air across his face. Someone wanted to keep this area clean, and that made him wonder even more.

The door itself was heavy, sealed tight, a number pad next to it. Goff examined the lock - a standard mechanism, but with a huge number of possible permutations. Still, Quintana was nothing if not predictable, and after a moment's pause Goff tapped in a ten digit number. The light turned from red to green, and the door slid open.

Goff smiled. Just like Quintana to choose the date of the final Independent surrender to the Alliance. As he said. Predictable. He stepped into the cold room and let the door close behind him.

* * *

In a small room two levels above, Victor Ramsey exhaled heavily. "He's disappeared," he said to Quintana. Head of security at the facility, and the man who had played lead Reaver, he had also just been informed that Goff wasn't on board his ship.

"That's … unfortunate." Quintana tapped the pen he had in his hand on his teeth. He'd been making notes on Mara Tam's progress when Ramsey had entered. "And there's no indication where he might have gone?"

"No. We haven't been able to pick him up on any of the surveillance feeds."

"It seems our Member Goff has some talents he doesn't like advertised," Quintana said. "Curiouser and curiouser."

"Down the rabbit hole."

Both men turned to look at Mara, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a child's tea set and a number of toys.

"What was that, my dear?" Quintana asked gently.

"Down the rabbit hole," the young woman replied. "Off with his head."

The doctor crossed to her, going down carefully onto his heels beside her. "I don't understand."

She lifted her head and gazed at him, her dark eyes unreadable pools. "He has found them," she said slowly, as if speaking to someone not all there. "He will betray us."

"Is she saying what I think she's saying?" Ramsey's tone was sharp.

"I think so." Quintana stood up and sighed. "I knew I was right not to let him into the entire plan."

Ramsey drew his gun. "Then I'll -"

Quintana held up a hand. "No. Let me. I'll talk to him. And if I can't persuade him, then I'll correct this little oversight of mine."

Mara didn't watch the two men leave the room, at least not with her eyes. She was staring at the tea party she'd set out before her, and at the exact placement of every cup and saucer. She smiled. So easy to show the correct planetary alignment of this small sector of space. And soon they'd be coming for her, and it would be time to play.

* * *

Patience stood in the infirmary, her grey hair billowed around her head like a slightly grubby cloud, and stared at Mal. Freya, hurrying down from the top of the ship to make sure he was okay, had relaxed visibly, and apart from sending him a glare that promised they'd be having one of their little _talks_ later, she'd gone to help with the clear up.

"You know, I hate owing you anything," the old woman said quietly.

"Patience, I feel the same." He grimaced as Simon cleaned the gunshot wound with antiseptic. "Gorramit, that hurts."

"Good. And you should just be grateful it isn't worse."

"What, and have everyone on this boat saying _I told you so_?"

"They're going to anyway."

"So're you gonna stand there making insulting remarks about me, or are you going to get that bullet out?"

"Well, you've not broken the bone, but I do need to operate. Do you want a local or general anaesthetic?" Simon countered.

"Just shoot me up with something that won't knock me out. There's far too many folks around here that I need to stay awake to deal with." He deliberately didn't look at their companion.

"As you wish." Simon injected his arm. "Give it a minute." He glanced up at Patience. "And I'd rather you left while I did this."

"It's okay, doc," Mal interrupted quickly. "Got things I want to ask and I'd kinda like to ask 'em while Patience is still in a grateful mood."

"Fine. So if you get an infection you can deal with it yourself." He poked Mal's arm. "Is it dead yet?"

There was a sharp intake of breath. "No."

"Shame."

For a long moment Mal had the impression that Simon wasn't using his best bedside manner, and was glad he hadn't mentioned anything about the new arrivals. He didn't want the young man digging around inside his flesh with the amount of anger he would likely be carrying as soon as he heard. He looked up at Patience. "So this Creel … have to say, I didn't think I'd ever see anyone wanting to take you on, face to face."

"Take me on?"

Mal cursed his active imagination and told himself to think first before he spoke. He went on, "In a purely non-physical sense, a'course."

"You saying I'm not pretty?" Patience asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm not saying a thing."

"Hmmn." She sighed. "Creel thought he'd make a better mayor than me," she said, disgust colouring her words. "Only he wasn't gonna wait for no election."

"You have elections?"

She gave him a look that said he was being stupid, and he smiled back at her.

"Mal, lie down," Simon ordered, having poked the area of the wound again and this time not getting any reaction.

"I'd rather –"

"Lie down. Or I'll get Freya back in here."

"Now, that's not nice."

"Then lie down."

Mal, feeling more vulnerable than he liked in front of Patience, swung his legs up onto the medbed, leaning back.

"Don't worry, Mal," the old woman said, a smile cracking her face. "I ain't gonna jump ya. You ain't exactly my type."

"Patience, you have no idea how pleased I am to hear it." He glanced at Simon who had a probe delving into his arm, and decided not to watch. "What about Macauliffe? You knew he'd end up dead, before you tipped me the wink. All you had to do was let him take you, we'd have gotten you back and the sheriff could've dealt with him."

"And let everyone know he got one over on me?"

Mal's eyebrows raised. "You think he'd do that?"

"For sure." She sniffed in displeasure. "And the truth is, you and I both know he wasn't gonna let me go if'n he had ridden out with me. Another reason I hate owing you."

"Patience, Patience …" Mal shook his head. "And you in your Sunday best, too."

She looked down at the soft cotton dress. "Ain't Sunday no more, Mal." She smiled slightly. "So … you're figuring on asking me about this job."

Mal sat up straighter as Simon pulled the bullet, luckily intact, from inside the wound. It didn't hurt as such, but he knew it was happening. "It's come at a particular moment in time that I feel is mighty coincidental."

"Thought you didn't believe in them."

"Exactly."

She studied him in silence for a moment, then said, "You're right. Man I know got in contact, said he needed a job doing, and I was to make sure you did it."

"This man have a name?"

"Smith."

Mal's lips twitched ever so slightly. "I take it that ain't his real moniker."

"Nope. And I never did know it. Always was Jereboam Smith to me." She exhaled loudly. "You know, with a name like that, I don't doubt it's really his. I mean, you'd think he wouldn't choose it otherwise."

"Patience."

"But he was a Browncoat once upon a time."

"An Independent?"

"Used to be. Something else now, I conjure."

"Don't tell me. One of these New Browncoats I've been hearing about."

"Bit like your pal Theo Hawkins." Patience was referring to the actor/manager who ran the theatrical troupe who had performed for her last time Mal was on Whitefall.

"Did this Mr Smith give you any idea as to why he wanted me specifically?"

"Nope. Just to get you and your crew to Argos soon as possible."

"Argos?" Mal eyes narrowed. "Now why would anyone want anything taken there?"

"Shithole of a place, far as I can recall," Patience admitted. "Nobody goes there don't have to, and that includes Alliance."

"And the cargo?"

"Ship came a few days ago, left some boxes. Don't know what's in 'em, didn't look, but they're big and heavy. At least they made it look like they were legit."

Mal thought for a moment. "What's this guy look like? Mr Smith."

"Medium height. Brown hair. Pretty average."

Just like the feller who'd been following them around. Maybe they'd got fed up with that, and decided on a more direct approach. "Can you contact him?"

"Nope." Patience crossed her arms. "He calls me." A small smile crossed her face. "'Sides, looked to me like there was more pressing things for you to be thinking on," she added. "Like that family reunion going on out there."

"Reunion?" Simon looked up from where he was doing yet more stitching on Mal's person. "What are you talking about?"

Serenity's captain licked his lips. "Well, doc, I'd be obliged if you'd finish that off first, but I think maybe after that you'll be wanting to sit down …"


	18. Chapter 18

Chiang Goff backed out of the room, barely able to breathe. The door closed silently, until he was staring at the thick glass window in the featureless door.

"My God …" he whispered.

"So you've found our little secret."

Goff span on his heel, coming face to face with Quintana, his tame security chief Ramsey hovering in the background. "You …" For a moment words wouldn't come, held back by the shock.

"And you seem a little perturbed by it."

"A little …" Goff swallowed. "Those things …" He pointed towards the door, his hand trembling slightly. "You were dismissed from the project for proposing just such abominations!"

"My dear Chiang, why don't we go to my office? We can talk in comfort, and it honestly looks as if you need a stiff drink." He reached out, taking hold of the other man's arm. "I can explain it to you."

Goff stared. "You think I'm going to condone this? And what about the rest of us? When were you planning on telling us?"

"I wasn't," Quintana confessed. "They would have the same reaction as you, for the most part. I was merely going to take this to its natural conclusion, and let my success speak for me." He pulled gently. "A drink, Chiang. And all the explanations you need."

"And what about the source? How did you –"

"Soon." Emil Quintana smiled, his grey curls bobbing slightly as he urged Goff along the corridor, Ramsey falling in behind. "A glass of whisky and this will all seem so much better."

* * *

Simon almost ran over to the other ship, Mal following a little slower, favouring his arm and wondering if he should have taken the doc up on the offer of a sling. At least, he'd offered before Mal had told him about the Tams being on board Alex's boat … now not even a bomb going off would have stopped him heading over there.

"What's going on?" Freya asked, joining him, Dillon stopping to stand and stare from where he was supervising the collection of bodies. Jayne dumped the corpse he was carrying onto the wagon and followed them.

"I think there's gonna be fireworks. Simon's folks are here," Mal explained.

"I know."

He glared briefly at her, then nodded resignedly. "A'course you peeked."

"Only just now. River told me."

"You sure?"

"About that, Mal, I promise."

"So how come you didn't hear 'em coming?" Mal demanded, albeit quietly.

"I was looking for enemies, not friends," Freya explained patiently.

"And which camp do you consider Gabriel Tam falls into?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Simon has."

"He has precedent."

The young man in question boarded the Vanguard, finding Breed in the small cargo bay. "Where is he?" he demanded.

Breed didn't have to ask who. "In the main salon. Your sister is –"

Simon didn't wait, just pushed past the other man and hurried into the main body of the ship.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Gabriel grumbled, pacing on the thick carpet. "We've come all this way, and now Captain Reynolds keeps us waiting."

Regan shot her husband a glare, trying to make him see he should just be glad he was in the same room as River, who was standing next to Alex Rostov, using his similarity to Freya as an anchor.

Alex half-smiled. "You have to understand, we weren't expected. And Mal did get shot."

"He'll be okay, won't he?" Regan asked, her eyes not moving from her daughter.

"From what I could see, it was just a flesh wound." Alex sounded as if he knew what he was talking about, as if discussing bullet holes was something he always did before breakfast and twice on Sundays.

"Good. I'd hate to think someone got badly hurt because of us."

Alex chuckled. "Honestly, I think it's something of an occupational hazard. Mal certainly seems to attract trouble."

"And is this the way of life out here?" Gabriel asked suddenly. "All gunfights and blood?" His hand strayed towards the cut on his cheek.

"Sometimes. And it's a hell of a culture shock." Alex felt River lean against him slightly. "But I was the same, Gabriel. I didn't know what to expect. Oh, I'd seen the docudramas on the Cortex, like everyone else, but they're … sanitised. I had no idea there would be times when the only negotiation could be at the end of a gun, and psychopaths think they can torture people for fun." He shuddered, aware his dreams were still occasionally plagued by images of Adelai Niska, and the sight of his sister and her husband on board that yacht …

"_Jia yan_ will be fine," River said quietly.

"_Jia yan_?" Gabriel turned on her. "What are you talking about?"

She gazed at him, her dark eyes not blinking, until he began to feel uncomfortable.

Then the door burst inwards.

Gabriel turned. "Simon."

"Father," Simon said, white-faced and trembling slightly. "Mother."

River left the comfort of Alex's presence and went to stand next to her brother, slipping her hand into his. He held on tightly.

"What? Not Dad?" Gabriel joked, feeling the tension like a knife-edged blade.

"No." That one word said more about what he thought his parents deserved than anything.

Regan, who wanted nothing more than to run to her children and hug them until the pain went away, felt her eyes fill. "Do you hate us that much?" she asked, her fingers clutching at her collar.

The look on Simon's face flashed through so many emotions it was impossible to count them all, but as fast as they came the stony mask fell back into place. "Of course not, Mother."

"Now, why do I find that hard to believe?" Gabriel asked, his tone the same one he'd used so long ago when they were children, and he'd caught them out in some minor infraction or other.

"What are you doing here?" The words finally fell from Simon's lips, unable to be contained any longer. "No-one asked you to come."

Regan stared at him, looking for the boy who'd run from their home to find his sister but seeing the man who lived on the edge of civilisation. "Simon –"

He didn't let her finish, didn't even grace her with a glance. "Well? What are you doing here?"

Gabriel drew himself up. "To see you. There are things I need to tell you –"

Simon almost sneered, the look on his face identical to the one he'd had the first time he'd set foot on Serenity. The _old_ Simon. "Like what? That you won't come for me again? That's old news."

Gabriel sighed. "You have no idea how many times I wished I'd never said that to you."

"You washed your hands of me, father. I'm hardly likely to forget that." Simon's tone, as well as his face, was icy.

"I know. And I'm sorry."

Simon couldn't keep up the façade. "_He_ came for us!" He pointed vaguely in the direction of the doorway where Mal and Freya stood, his pain boiling the ice into scalding steam. "He didn't even like us, but he came for us! You were supposed to love us but you wouldn't even listen." He swallowed back the bile. "But then I guess blood really is everything to you."

Gabriel couldn't argue. He knew what he'd done. "You're talking about the fact that I'm not your biological father. I always suspected Andrew told you."

"On his deathbed. He kept your secret almost to the end," River said quietly, but neither man took any notice of her.

"Would it have made any difference? If you were?" Simon asked, suddenly needing desperately to know the answer.

The older Tam looked at him, at the dark, almost black hair that was really too long for polite society, at the blue eyes holding a trace of something that seemed close to pleading. "Simon, I …" He swallowed. "No. No, it wouldn't," he admitted finally, praying Simon believed him. "I never considered you weren't my son."

Simon felt oddly reassured, but that was swept away once more by the hurt. "Then why didn't you trust me?"

"I don't know."

Simon closed his eyes briefly. "No. I suppose you don't. Too many other, more important things to deal with." The bitterness was almost blinding. "Not that it matters anyway, not any more. We're safe here. Safer than I'd ever felt at home." The emphasis he put on the last word was enough.

Gabriel let his guilt boil over into anger. "So I'm not going to be able to apologise. No matter what I do."

"No."

"I should have known you wouldn't –"

"Gabriel." Regan's one word had him jamming his mouth shut before he could do any more damage.

"Simon, I really think you'll maybe be wanting to take a breath right now," Mal advised, keeping his voice low in an attempt to defuse the situation.

The young man turned on him. "Don't tell me what to do!"

"Now I know how you feel, but this ain't –"

"You have no idea."

Mal took a sharp breath as Simon barged past him and into his bad arm, glad there was still some of the anaesthetic in his system. He saw Freya glance at him, but shook his head slightly. Instead he looked at the Tams. "Well, I can't say his reaction overly surprises me that much."

Gabriel almost laughed. "Honestly, neither can I."

"Simon's angry," River said by way of explanation, gazing after her brother.

"And you're not?"

She turned her dark, deep eyes back on him. "Oh yes."

"But you're –"

"They made me crazy. Took a fourteen year old girl and cut into her brain, made an assassin out of her. I am so angry that it _burns_."

"Then why –"

"I'm going to be with Simon," she said, cutting him off effectively. "Jayne will tell me what transpires." She touched her husband's hand as she walked out, her feet barely seeming to touch the carpet.

"She's so grown up …" Regan whispered to no-one.

Mal began to cross his arms, but the bullet wound was starting to pain him again, so he contented himself with hitching his thumbs into his gunbelt. "Okay," he said, getting everyone's attention. "Now my temper ain't good at the best of times, and it's rapidly coming to the end of its leash, so I'd like someone to tell me, preferably in words of two syllables or less, what the _diyu_ you folks are all doing here."

"I have information," Gabriel began, his hand straying to his chest. "About what's going on."

"You mean with the Alliance?"

"Not just the Alliance, Captain. There are other forces out there –"

"The New Browncoats. I'm figuring maybe that's what you are."

Gabriel smiled. "I wouldn't be so impertinent. I'm just a man trying to atone."

"That right." Mal didn't believe him, it was obvious.

"Then … perhaps." He sighed, trying to get his breath. "I think there are a lot more out there than you can imagine, Captain."

"Well, the Alliance have upset a lot of people."

"But we're not all insane like Quintana."

"Quintana." Mal straightened up. "Emil Quintana?"

"Dillon told me you'd heard of him. About the girl."

"Yeah, I heard. From an old friend." Mal unconsciously rubbed the point under his ribs where the Quicksilver had entered. "Not that we could ever find out much about him."

"You obviously didn't ask the right people," Gabriel said, pressing on his chest. "I'm not surprised, though. Quintana always did keep under the radar, and working for the Alliance meant they kept his name out of things as much as possible."

"You sound like you know him personally."

"I met him. Once." Gabriel pressed harder, taking in a gulp of air. "If anyone could be classed as insane, he could."

"That's nice to know, but I'm figuring you've got more'n that to –"

"Mal …" Freya stepped forward, her hand on his arm. Her eyebrows were drawn down in concentration.

"What?"

"He's –" She didn't get the chance to finish as the elder Tam collapsed back into the chair.

"Gabriel?" Regan was immediately at his side, pulling a small box from her pocket and opening it. "Gabriel, have you taken your medication today?"

He managed to shake his head. "I … in all the excitement …"

She took out a tablet and placed it in his mouth. "Swallow."

Gabriel did as he was told, barely managing to get it down his dry throat.

Mal had crossed the room. "Are you in pain?" he asked, taking the other man's hand and checking his pulse. It was racing.

"No. Not … pain." Gabriel was panting. "But I … I can't breathe."

"My infirmary's –" Alex began, but Mal interrupted.

"I don't think a weave's gonna be enough this time," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Jayne."

The big man moved forward, easily lifting Gabriel into his arms. "Serenity?"

"Quick as you can."

* * *

"Honey?" Kaylee stepped into the infirmary. "You okay?"

"Of course not." Simon was leaning against the medbed, his hands tightly curled into fists, pressing into the padding.

"Why? What is it?"

He looked sharply at her. "You mean you haven't heard?"

"About your folks being here? Yeah, I heard. Hank told me."

His eyes narrowed. "Then surely you must understand how I feel."

"I know you're angry. I can see that."

"Angry? My God, I don't think that even begins to come close!"

"But they're your folks." Kaylee was the first to admit she was confused. Even with her family, with all the cousins and aunts and uncles she had, she'd never been in the position of having one of them betray her. And besides, she'd always been ready to hear the other side, to let them explain.

"They came looking for us," River said, having silently descended the steps into the common area, and now stood outside the infirmary.

"And look what they've found," Simon said, unable to stop the spiteful tone. "You're married to a mercenary, and I'm …"

"What?" Kaylee asked sharply, her confusion changing to hurt. "You're what, Simon?"

He took a mental step backwards. "They won't understand us, Kaylee," he said.

"Us?" Her eyes widened. "You mean me. They won't think _I'm_ good enough for you."

"Maybe."

"Do you think I'm good enough for you?" she demanded, spots of high colour appearing in her cheeks. "Only if you don't –"

He pulled her into his arms. "_Bao bei_, don't ever say that."

She let him hold her. "Then maybe you need to talk to 'em." She felt him stiffen. "They raised you, Simon."

"It's why they went to Lazarus," River said.

Simon let go of his wife and span on his heel. "Lazarus?"

"They went to Lazarus looking for us. They put together the clues and –"

He took a step forward, more angry than she had ever seen. More even than the day he shot Jayne in mistaken belief that he'd violated his baby sister. "You knew?" he asked, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

She gazed back, a picture of calm. "Yes. I knew."

"About them going to Lazarus. Seeing our children."

"Yes."

"And you didn't think to tell me."

"Simon, sweetie, this ain't good for you –" Kaylee tried to put in, but Simon swept over her.

"You knew they were coming and you didn't … what, want to warn me?"

"I knew how you'd react."

"React?" He threw his hands into the air. "And how exactly was that going to help?"

"I thought –"

"No." He was suddenly very close to her, his face like thunder. "You didn't think. You might be a damn genius, but you didn't think." He strode out.

Kaylee wanted to run after him, to make him see sense, to sympathise, but she knew right now it wasn't going to work. Instead she asked, "Did they really see them? See my babies?"

"Yes. Bethie made a big hit with them."

The young mechanic smiled gently, if a little sadly. "Bet they fell in love with her right then."

"With all of them," River said, letting her emotions free from their constraints a little and wrapping her arms around her body.

"Oh, honey," Kaylee said, appalled at her own insensitivity. "I'm sorry. A'course they saw all of them. And I can't …" She paused. "Honey? What is it?"

"Need Simon."

"What? You need –"

"Not me." She turned to where Jayne was carrying a man in from the cargo bay.

Mal was at his back. "Kaylee, where's Simon?"

"He's … hiding." She didn't see why she should protect him, especially since she was still smarting a little at the imagined slight.

"Go get him. His Pa needs some doctoring." Mal followed Jayne into the infirmary as the big man made his burden comfortable on the medbed.

"I'm fine," Gabriel insisted, but his colour didn't convince anyone.

"Kaylee, go."

The young mechanic nodded, hurrying round to their quarters. Simon was sitting on the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress tightly and staring at the floor.

"Simon, your Pa needs you," she said in a rush.

"He's not my father."

"Well, whatever he is, he still needs you." She glanced over her shoulder. "He's in the infirmary. The Cap says –"

Simon's head snapped up. "In my infirmary?"

"I think he's real sick. He looked bad." She hadn't seen much, but it was enough.

"I don't care." Simon's face took on a look of stubbornness she didn't recognise. "Let him die."

Kaylee was shocked. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"You're a doctor. You can't just –"

"Kaylee, you know what he did!"

"And you took an oath. That Hippocratic oath that you're always so gorram proud of. You've helped people you didn't like before, tended to folks who were out to kill us all." She put her hands on her hips. "So don't you go saying things like that!"

He stared at her. "Kaylee –"

"You get out there right now, Simon Tam. Or I'll … I'll …"

He stood up. "Or you'll what?"

She glared. "Or I'll never believe you're the man I fell in love with ever again." It was the worse threat she could think of on the spur of the moment, and for a second she thought he was going to laugh at her, but instead he only smiled sadly.

"Can't have that, can I?" he said, crossing the small room to her. "I won't like it, but … okay." He ran his hand down her arm, then strode towards the infirmary.


	19. Chapter 19

Freya had already cleared the cool room of as many people as possible, leaving only Regan standing by her husband, and herself ready to assist as necessary.

Simon pushed past Mal, waiting in the doorway, and started examining Gabriel, letting his professional skills take over, and keeping the anger he still felt towards the people in front of him banked down, only the faintest of glows still showing. Eventually, having taken scans and examined results, he straightened up, not having said a word to either of them.

"Something I need to know here?" Mal asked, stepping into the infirmary.

Simon turned to look at him. "He had an attack. A warning."

"His heart?"

"Yes. The tachycardia was very high."

"Tachy … that's where it's beating too fast to count?"

Simon smiled slightly. "That's it."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"He's not going to die from it, if that's what you mean."

"Good. Hate to carry corpses around at the best of times."

"You know, it's very disconcerting to be talked about like this when I'm actually still here," Gabriel said conversationally.

Simon didn't even look at him. "Then we'll talk outside."

"I didn't mean –" Gabriel sighed as he watched his son take the captain out into the other room. Nothing he said was likely to make a difference now, he knew, but he had to try.

The rest of the crew drew back a little, giving the two men space.

"It was my fault," Simon said quietly.

"How?"

"I …" Simon closed his eyes for a moment, centring himself. "I was arguing. I couldn't see … it was my fault."

"Sounds like maybe it was."

Simon's eyes flew open, and they fixed on Mal's face. "What?"

"Oh, did you want me to talk you out of it?" Serenity's captain pointed to himself.

"No, but I –"

"Simon, no-one's gonna hold it against you if you get mad. You've had a long time to bottle this stuff up. But I'd be obliged if you didn't kill your Dad before he tells us what he knows."

"He's not my father."

"Fine. But it still holds, whatever we call him."

"He was your father for twenty-three years, Simon. And now he's dying." Regan spoke, standing in the doorway, holding herself stiffly.

Both men turned.

"I don't believe you," Simon said, shaking his head.

"It's true. You're a doctor. If you want to take blood, do more tests … it's Mandel's Syndrome."

"But that's –"

"Fatal. Yes, I know." She smiled a little. "But then, so's life, if you live long enough."

"It's nothing to joke about," Simon said awkwardly. "Have you had other opinions?"

"You can't begin to know the number of times he's been prodded about, stuck with needles, had full body scans … They all say the same thing. Even with the medication, he has maybe six months."

"So he's going for the sympathy vote?"

"Simon." Kaylee touched his arm. "Don't."

He glanced round at her, seeing the concern on her face, but not just for him. "They left us, Kaylee," he whispered.

"I know. But they're here now. And your Pa's dying." She looked into the infirmary at the man on the medbed. "And at least you get to say goodbye."

Mal saved Simon from having to answer. "That's all peachy, but I'd rather he didn't croak until he's told us what's got his britches all in a twist."

"Here?" Kaylee asked, annoyed with her Captain but understanding his need to know what was going on.

"Good a place as any."

"Yes," Gabriel called, having heard some of the conversation. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. "I think it's time."

Mal stepped into the infirmary to stand by Freya, only Dillon and Zoe following him inside. The rest of them clustered around the doorway. "Well?" he asked, not unkindly.

Gabriel tried to sit up, and smiled gratefully at Freya as she adjusted the medbed to support him. "What do you know about Reavers, Captain?"

Mal glared at him. "That one of those rhetorical questions?" he asked in turn. "Seeing as you've been cooped up on a boat with people who maybe know more'n is good for 'em about my business."

Gabriel nodded. "I know you were involved in the Miranda broadwave."

"That's ancient history," Mal said, tucking his thumbs into his gunbelt, as always pushing the memory of Wash impaled on a huge stake back into the dark recesses of his mind.

"Perhaps. But you also suspect Reavers are the potential psychics, made mad by the sudden and violent turning on of their abilities."

Mal stood perfectly still, and outside in the common area Zoe ran her fingertips over the butt of her Mare's Leg. "Permaybehaps."

"You're right, of course. And that the Alliance knew what would happen, before the Pax was ever added into the air purifiers." Gabriel took a deep breath.

"Kinda got that from the horse's mouth."

"Andrew Brooks, yes." The man's colour was improving a little. "He was a good friend. It came up in one of the many discussions we had, when he was trying to tell me I was wrong about Simon." He peered around Mal to try and see his son.

"You're telling me stuff I already know," Mal said, sharper than he intended. "Tell me something I don't."

Dillon stepped forward, seeing the indecision on the older man's face. "Gabriel, you've got to trust these people. I know you don't want to come out and say it, but you have to." He looked at Mal. "It's not just about controlling the Reavers, and it turns out Niska was right about that. What Gabriel knows is much, much worse."

"How can it be worse?" Mal turned back to the medbed. "Somebody had better tell me."

Gabriel looked from Mal to Dillon and back again, then said, very quietly, as if afraid of someone listening who shouldn't be, "Hybrids."

"What?"

"The girl, whoever she is, can control Reavers to a certain degree, but only as something of a blunt instrument. What certain factions within the Alliance wanted was a surgical scalpel." Gabriel licked suddenly dry lips. "Quintana proposed combining human and Reaver DNA, basically breeding from selected hosts, believing that any such off-spring would be easier to control. Still incredibly violent, but capable of being used against specific targets and leaving others untouched."

There were horrified murmurs from the common area, and Mal felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift. "That's … just all manner of wrong."

"And more specifically, outright illegal," Dillon added. "And not even the most die-hard Parliamentary Member was going to agree to such a thing, not if there was any likelihood of it getting to the public." He shook his head. "You getting that broadwave out made them all the more paranoid. If that kind of dirty little secret could have the light of day shone onto it, what else might be discovered?"

Gabriel nodded. "They were so scared they summarily relieved Quintana from his position just for lobbying for it."

"How do you know about this?" Mal asked, glaring at the older Tam as the banked anger he'd felt for a long time threatened to burst into flame. "You got connections with the Alliance?"

"No, no, not like that," Gabriel said quickly. "Perhaps I might once have had faith in the system, seeing all the good it had done, but now …" He drew himself together. "My loyalties have moved towards the New Browncoats."

"That doesn't explain a gorram thing."

"Quintana doesn't care who he works for, Captain, as long as what he gets what he wants. He's switched sides."

Mal shook his head. "No. I can't … I won't believe that. No matter what, there's not a one Independent is going to condone creating more of these damn things."

"I would normally agree with you, but these are fanatics. And they're a small group, not representative." He almost chuckled. "It just so happens that they're very well financed by people who want to see the Alliance destabilised, brought to its knees by any means possible."

Mal pursed his lips. He wanted that, to have the stranglehold the Alliance had on the outer planets broken, to let men live their lives without undue interference, but he would never …

_They're not you, zhang fu_.

He glanced at Freya, her eyes on him. _Might have been._

_No. Never._

_You just keep telling me that._

Gabriel, unaware of the mental conversation going on, said, "The truth is, I have friends. Who have friends on both sides. And information gets back to me. I never honestly believed that Quintana would ever succeed, but it appears he has. Or at the very least is close to doing so."

"Dear God in heaven," Hank muttered, reaching blindly for Kaylee's hand and holding tight.

"That's pretty much why I'm here," Dillon added. "When I was looking for that ViroStim for you, I kept hitting a brick wall, being told all medical equipment was in short supply. I thought it was just the Alliance keeping a tight rein on things, but I did more checking. Viral replicators, cryotubes, DNA splicers … it was all still being made, but someone was buying everything pretty much as soon as it came off the production line."

"Surely the powers that be would be able to find out who it was," Freya said softly.

"And they were looking, but as soon as they thought they had a line on them, it vanished, like a puff of smoke. All that happened was that the stuff started to be stolen instead of bought legitimately."

"Captain," Gabriel said, taking the attention back to himself, "there may be millions of good men and women, Browncoat to the bone, who just want to be left to live their own way, but it only takes a handful to subvert the entire operation. And that handful want to see Osiris in flames. And Londinium. Ariel. All of the Core planets."

"And they know what Quintana's doing?" Mal asked, having to speak around the lump in his throat.

"No. I doubt it, not to that extent. But they believe it's okay to use the Reavers as they are, and as such they're financing him. They probably don't know what he's using it for."

"That's insane," Zoe said.

Gabriel looked at her, admiring the calm nature of her demeanour, and getting it almost entirely wrong. "I agree. But it's worse."

"I seem to be in danger of repeating myself here, but … how?" Mal demanded.

"I think he's used the DNA of the psychic, the girl the Alliance was using to control the Reavers."

Mal's jaw dropped. "He did what?"

Dillon answered this time. "Bits of information, things that have been overheard but overlooked … nothing by themselves but put together … it appears he left with samples of her DNA."

"Can they do that?" Kaylee asked quietly, her voice only meant for her husband. "Make … more of them?"

Simon nodded. "With the equipment Dillon mentioned, pretty easily."

"But they're psychic already," Zoe pointed out. "How can that make them any different? Any worse? And Reavers were humans, turned insane by Pax. Won't their DNA just be the same as ours?"

Simon stepped into the infirmary. "No. Pax alters the DNA on a subatomic level. Not immediately, which is why the AntiPax works, but after a week or so it's permanent. Technically Reavers are a different species."

"I still don't see how this makes the hybrids worse."

Gabriel lay back, feeling tiredness wash over him. "Because they won't have to go through the trauma of being psychically switched on. They'll come out of their cocoons with the ability intact, and with the girl's DNA they might even be able to control it, utilise it to their advantage."

Mal felt the blood rush from his face. "Are you suggesting –"

Simon interrupted. "Mal, if these hybrids are viable, and they get loose, we might not have to worry about running from them. We won't be able to run. They could be able to hold us psychically, maybe even turn us against each other. They might not even have to touch us to kill us."

Silence filled the cool room, and out in the common area. Hank, needing some physical contact, pulled Kaylee against him, while Jayne felt River's hand in his, and he held on like a drowning man. Alex and Breed looked at each other – no matter they'd all discussed this at length on the trip, to see their friends, their family, to suddenly realise the implications was hard.

"Can't we just tell the Alliance?" Hank asked. "I mean, I know that goes against the grain, but they ain't gonna just stand by and let this happen, are they?"

Jayne grunted. "What's to stop 'em using these things themselves?"

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that." He hung his head, feeling awkward. Kaylee patted his arm.

Freya didn't want to confuse the issue further by letting the Tams know, just yet, the identity of the psychic. "But the girl ... Surely the Alliance have her locked away someplace. Not that I think it's right, of course, but … if Quintana can't get to her, how does he expect to control these hybrids?"

Dillon looked at Gabriel, then said, "We think he has her already."

"What?" Mal seemed to rouse from his reverie.

"It's why the Reaver attacks specifically on Independent targets have stopped."

Mal glanced at Freya. "Greenleaf," he murmured. "Fogle's Creek."

She nodded slowly.

"We picked up reports of a freighter en route for Osiris being attacked by pirates," Alex added from the common area. "Very sketchy, as if someone was trying to keep it quiet, but there was mention of a Dr Petty being amongst the casualties."

"He took over from Quintana," Gabriel clarified. "And as he's highly unlikely to be travelling far from his project …"

Mal spoke quietly, a new resolve in his voice that many of those listening had never heard before. At least, those who hadn't been around for Miranda. "If these madmen have the girl, then they've got most of the cards. Even with the AntiPax, that ain't gonna do much good if we have Reavers, with or without enhanced abilities, breathing down our necks." He paused for a moment. "And as much as I'd love to leave the Alliance to mop up this mess, Jayne's right. We'd just be handing them a weapon to use against us folks they have a beef with, and against all those they just don't like. And no-one'd be any the wiser." He looked at Gabriel. "When was Quintana fired?"

"A little under a year ago."

"And the equipment?" This was directed at Dillon. "How long?"

"Nine months, give or take."

Mal turned to Simon. "I know you ain't gonna be able to give me a precise answer, doc, but I need your best guess. With what we know, what this Quintana has access to, how long would it take to grow these … abominations?"

Simon licked suddenly dry lips. "Does he have cell renewal boosters?"

Dillon nodded. "More than one."

"Then …" Simon looked at Mal. "Nine months. Give or take."

"You mean they …" Mal had to close his mouth consciously.

"Not yet," River said, moving around Jayne so she could be seen by those in the infirmary. "But soon."

"You sure about that, _xiao nu_?" He ignored Gabriel's jerk of the head.

"I'm sure."

"We got time?"

"Perhaps."

He took a deep breath. "Then I don't see as we have a choice. We came out here because we knew something was up. Now we know what. And we can't let these things get out, just as much as we can't let the Alliance have them." He looked around his crew. "Seems to me we've got a purpose."

Jayne growled in agreement, and even Hank was nodding.

"But we don't know where they are," Gabriel admitted.

Dillon reached into his pocket, removing a data chip. He crossed the room and slid it into the reader, a map appearing on the screen. "I came across this, but it has no names, no distinguishing marks."

Mal shook his head. "Makes it worse than useless. Without something to guide us -"

"We know where they're not," Hank interrupted, then had the grace to blush a little as all eyes turned on him again. "I mean, we know they're not in the Core. And there are a lot of planets and moons out there with strong Alliance presence. They're not likely to have built anything close to a barracks or anything, are they?"

"Probably not, but I've known some pretty bad criminals have their houses right next door to a Fed station." Mal let his lips lift slightly. "But Hank's right, and the goods we were meant to pick up were bound for Argos. It's a no account moon, but unlikely to be far from the final destination, so at least we've got a direction." He exhaled. "How long would it take us to –"

"Hera."

"Moonbrain?" Jayne looked down at River. "What was that?"

"Hera."

Mal felt the usual frisson up his spine at the mention of that planet, but he gave his albatross the benefit of the doubt. "That's right," he said gently. "Argos is one of Hera's moons."

"No, I mean she's on Hera."

Mal's eyes hardened, becoming flecks of frozen sapphire. "You sure?"

"I can see her," she said, gripping so tightly onto Jayne's hand that she was sure she could feel bones grating. "I can see," she repeated unhappily. "Mara Tam's on Hera."


	20. Chapter 20

"Mara Tam's on Hera." River's words dropped into space like nuggets of frozen lava.

"What _tyen shiao duh_ is this?" Gabriel demanded, his face losing the colour he'd gained. "Mara's dead."

Mal didn't answer him, just looked out of the infirmary at Hank. "How long if we burn it?" he asked.

Hank's mind did the calculations for him in a split. "Five days."

"Get a course laid in. Try and make it out of sight of the Alliance, but as soon as you can."

"On it," the pilot said, running full pelt up the stairs.

Mal felt fingers clutch at his arm, tugging him around. "I don't take kindly to be handled," he said, glaring at Gabriel, prying the older man loose.

"And I don't take kindly to being ignored. What is all this nonsense about Mara?"

"Mr Tam, it ain't nonsense."

River let go of Jayne's hand and stepped into the infirmary, approaching the medbed. "She's the psychic, Father."

"That's crazy." His mouth set into a stubborn line as one of the monitors he was on began to beep faster.

Simon prepared a syringe, just in case.

Mal shrugged. "Yep, I'd say it was, but no more so than someone creating Reavers. And from past experience I'd have to say she's been right more'n she's been wrong."

Gabriel shook his head. "Mara Tam died. She was twelve." He looked into River's face. "We went to her funeral, for heaven's sake."

River almost smiled. Almost the same words Simon had used when he found out. "Not her body," she said quietly. "Stolen. Cut into and made into something else. Something that controls Reavers. My twin."

Gabriel stared. "River, you don't have a twin."

"Yes, I do. Duplicated. Copied."

"I don't understand."

Simon wasn't quite so circumspect. "You recommended the agency, didn't you? The one you bought us from." He ignored Regan's little cry of horror. "Blue Sun controlled, wasn't it? And they were playing God with the children. They used the same combination for Mara as for River. No wonder they looked so alike when they were children, or didn't that occur to you?"

The older Tam tried to breathe, but he couldn't seem to get air into his lungs. Simon smoothly injected him with the relaxant, and he was able to take a deeper breath. "I didn't know," he said, blinking hard. "But she's dead."

"No," River said, reaching out for his hand but stopping herself before she touched him. "Not dead. Yes. And dead too. But still alive."

Jayne strode into the infirmary and stood behind her, pulling him against his heat and bulk. "Moonbrain, you might wanna try some of that control Freya here's been trying to knock into you."

River glanced across. "Did I sound particularly crazy?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Not … particularly," Freya said, smiling a little, then amended, "Maybe a little."

"Oh. Sorry."

Gabriel wasn't going to admit he felt a sharp pain around the area of his heart when he saw River stop herself from taking his hand, and it wasn't anything to do with the tachycardia. "Are you telling me this girl, the one we've been talking about, the one Quintana is using –"

"Is my sister," River finished. She sighed. "I need … space." She walked out, and Freya nodded at Kaylee to follow her, make sure she was okay.

Jayne stepped out of the infirmary too, about to chase her down, then his tracker senses picked something up in the cargo bay, and he hurried up the steps, collecting Breed as the closest man with a gun on the way.

"Is she alright?" Regan asked, torn between going after her daughter and staying with her husband.

"Not sure you can say that about River," Mal said. "But for a crazy person, she's doing okay."

"Will you stop saying that about her!" Gabriel commanded, his voice ringing from the superstructure.

"Why?" Freya moved closer. "She is. She's the first one to admit it. What they did to her in the Academy took away her propensity for sanity. But she's with us now. With family. And we help."

"_We're_ her family," Regan said, but without much hope of it being true.

Gabriel couldn't cope, and lay his head back on the medbed, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye to run down into his sparse hair. "I … Andrew told us, but …"

"Believe him," Freya said.

He gathered himself a little and looked at Simon. "Did they … did they do it with others? Using the same DNA."

The young doctor was honestly surprised at his shrewdness. "I … yes, I think so. Andrew said when they saw River's potential they used the same combination for another twelve or so. He told me they didn't have any success, but it looks like he was mistaken."

"Your sister."

"No." Simon shook his head. "Half-sister."

"What?" This was Regan. "How can Mara be your –"

Simon interrupted. "No. You might have asked for the same donors, but that wasn't what you got. Our father – whoever he was – was the same. But a different mother." Simon shook his head. "It almost destroyed River when we found out. You can see her hold on reality is sometimes frail enough, but this …"

Gabriel had gone even paler. "Simon – I didn't know. I swear I –"

Simon barked a laugh. "Oddly enough, it's about the one thing I can't blame you for." Any humour died. "When she found out she didn't know who she was. It was only Jayne, that great hulking man who you obviously think isn't good enough for her, that saved her. His love. His …" He stopped, seeing the man in front of him in distress, and tried to control himself. "She's lucky to have him."

"Simon, I never said he wasn't good enough for her."

"But he's a mercenary. A killer. He's whored around half the galaxy and robbed from the other. You'd never have allowed him near the gates, never mind inside the house. He's –" Simon paused, seeing Gabriel smile, even though he was clearly upset. "What?"

"Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?"

Simon's hands clenched into fists, and he realised he had been guilty of doing exactly what he was now accusing his father. "That isn't the point."

"No?" Gabriel lay back again, fighting a sudden fatigue that came over him. "I know you won't believe me, but I'll say it anyway. If River is happy, then so am I. Of course I'd envisaged her marrying someone from her own social standing, perhaps even one of your doctor friends, or a patron of the arts who adored her dancing. But, you know … I think she has. She … fits in. Oh, I'm going to speak to him, this man called Jayne, put the fear of God into him if he ever considers hurting my little girl, but …" His eyes were beginning to close. "I'm not the ogre you think I am, Simon," he managed to say before he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Gabriel?" Regan touched his forehead, concern huge in her eyes.

"He's only sleeping," Simon assured her. "The injection I gave him has a sedative effect. It's what he needs."

"Thank you," she said honestly.

He squirmed a little out of embarrassment, but a commotion at the doorway to the common area stopped him from having to respond.

"Cap, you'd better get out here!" Jayne yelled, making the man on the medbed twitch but not wake.

Mal looked at Freya, who nodded and drew her gun, then ran out of the infirmary, Zoe and Dillon at his heels. He pulled up, though, as soon as he got into the bay. "What the …"

Under the close watch of Jayne and Breed, Patience was supervising her men as they loaded Serenity with a dozen crates, all different sizes. "Your cargo, Mal," she said, smiling wickedly.

"No, it ain't."

"You took the job," the old woman pointed out. "This here's the stuff."

"But we know it's a trap." Mal slowly slid his gun home in its holster.

"Not my concern." She tossed him a small bag which he caught reflexively. "And now you've been paid."

Mal sighed. "You're enjoying this, ain't you?"

"Every damn second."

Jayne turned begging eyes on his captain. "Can I shoot her? Please?" His gaze was oddly close to the look his niece was so good at, but so much more unsettling.

For a long moment Mal really did consider it, his mind entertaining him with images of the old woman lying flat on her back with a little hole right between the eyes, although as Jayne had one of his bigger handguns out it would probably be fairly large. "No, sorry," he said finally, and obviously reluctantly. "Besides, Patience still owes us for rescuing her." He turned to smile at the _puo foo_. "Don't you?"

Patience's good humour turned to annoyance.

* * *

Five days fast burn away, another conversation was taking place.

"You really think I'm going to agree with what you're doing?" Goff had allowed the two men to escort him back to one of the offices, obviously Quintana's as it looked just the same as the one he'd had when he was with the project. "If you do then you're crazier than that girl back there."

Quintana poured a measure of whisky into one of the cut glasses, bringing it back and placing it down in front of Goff before sitting at his desk. "I think you're going to listen sensibly. We both want the same thing – an end to the Alliance. We knew there would be casualties. There always is, in war. But you had no compunction over using the Reavers against them. You helped me find Mara, bring her back home. Why should this be any different?"

"Of course it is!" Goff insisted indignantly. "The Reavers were an accident, created from good intentions, and we –"

"An accident?" Quintana raised his eyebrows. "Do you really believe that?"

"It's the truth, everyone knows …" Goff's voice faltered. "Are you telling me the Alliance created these abominations on purpose?"

"Of course."

"My God."

"My dear Chiang, the Miranda broadwave was entirely accurate. In fact, if anything, it didn't go far enough." He waved his hand. "But that is irrelevant now. The fact is, Mara's manipulation of the original Reavers is not complete. But these, her children, will be –"

"Her what?"

"Her children."

"You mean you used _her_ DNA –"

"Mixed with that of a Reaver we captured, it has proved to be remarkably adaptive." Quintana seemed pleased to be able to explain. "She'll have total control. Pinpoint accuracy. We'd be able to set the hybrids down in the middle of Parliament Square and they'd kill just those we wanted. Cleanly and efficiently."

"But she's psychic!"

"As are Reavers. How do you think they manage to fly ships? Repair them? Why they don't just tear each other limb from limb?"

"This is insanity," Goff said, picking up the whisky and draining it dry in one gulp.

"Perhaps. But didn't you know that insanity and genius are a mere hair's breadth apart?"

"No."

Quintana shook his head, his colourless eyes glinting in the light. "That is a shame."

"Shame? Emil, if the others find out, they're going to do more than just chastise you, you do realise that."

"I'm sure they will listen to reason."

"Reason has nothing to do with it, either! They have too much to lose to let you complete this madness." He sat forward. "If nothing else, they'll kill to protect themselves. They'll kill _you_."

"I doubt that." Quintana smiled.

"This … experiment of yours … was never sanctioned! And to use DNA from a psychic … Emil, do you have any idea what you've done? At the very least they're going to be as bad as ordinary Reavers, but what if they're worse? What if your control isn't as perfect as you'd like? You let them loose and Mara can't stop them attacking us all?"

"That won't happen."

"You can promise that, can you?" Goff stood up. "You have to destroy them before it's too late. Before they … they hatch."

"I can't do that, Chiang. That would be genocide." It was clear he honestly believed that.

"You have to. If you don't I'll have no choice but to let the others know. And both of us know what their reaction is …" His voice tailed off, and he wondered why there was a singing in his ears.

Goff looked past him towards Ramsey who was standing in the shadows. "It seems she was right."

"What? Who was right? Who are you …" Pain stabbed through his belly and he doubled over, vomiting onto the carpet.

"Did you have to do it here?" Ramsey asked, his nose wrinkling with slight distaste.

"It doesn't matter. It will clean up." Quintana watched dispassionately as Goff slid to the floor, his limbs contorting into shapes no body should attempt. "And I didn't have anything else to hand. At least, nothing quick."

"I could have done it for you." Ramsey caressed the knife at his belt.

"But equally messy."

"Perhaps. But what would you like me to do with him?"

"I was thinking about one of the other levels, where the walls aren't quite so secure. Then if anyone finds him, we can say he probably wandered off, and didn't take care."

"Shiny." Ramsey watched Goff's death throes. "I still say you should have left him to me."

"Next time," Quintana promised. "Next time."

Goff stopped twitching, his eyes sightless, blood turning the foam at his lips pink. Yet even as he died, the poison burning his veins into ash, the spy on his ship was sitting back in his chair, mentally counting the credits that would soon be in his account as he pressed send, the location of the facility speeding across the 'verse towards his masters.

* * *

Mara Tam settled one of the dolls she'd been given against the pillow, admiring the way her golden hair flowed around her painted face with her eyes, while her mind was up in the office, observing Ramsey drag the body of the betrayer out into the corridor.

She had also felt the message being sent, but that didn't matter. In fact, it was part of her plan. There had to be enough meat here for her friends to feast on, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun.

Drawing her legs up under her on the bed, she opened her mind, and smiled. At last. The drugs had gone from her system, and she could reach out. Her doppler was there, coloured all distress and anxiety, but as she watched she felt herself being pushed away, a wall built around her, between them. Interesting. This one, this other half, had power, and it would be fascinating when they finally met. She wondered if she could kill her from here, or at least incapacitate, but that could stop the fun.

Besides, that wasn't her purpose, not right now. She closed her eyes and called.

_He heard. The fresh blood spurting into his mouth ran down his scarred chin, and his eyes narrowed. He knew. Recognised. Understood. The man under him struggled, screaming, and with one backhanded blow he broke his neck. No time for this. He lifted his head and howled._

_All across the town others listened, joining with him in the unearthly sound, leaving their victims as they headed back for their ships, some with prizes, some with full bellies._

_He watched one of his brothers head towards him, a woman across his shoulder, bloodied blonde hair falling from his hand. He lashed out, reinforcing the command with his mind, and the other man cowered a little, but dropped the woman. She lay in the red mud, skin ripped from her flesh, unmoving as they boarded, the hatch slamming closed._

_The ships took off, uncontained engines shrieking in protest, black smoke coiling after them until they vanished out of atmo, leaving the survivors to stare numbly at the sky._

And on Hera, Mara Tam lay down on her pillow with her face turned to her doll, and went calmly to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

As Serenity broke atmo, Jayne finally managed to track River down, but to his chagrin only with help from Freya. He'd exhausted all possibilities, and finally gone to her for assistance as she finished moving a few things in the cargo bay. She hadn't waited for him to speak, merely pointing upwards. For a moment he wondered if she meant his wife was outside on the hull, then he realised. He nodded his thanks and climbed up the various ladders to the small maintenance platform high over the bay.

"Thought it was only Frey sat up here when she was mad with Mal," he commented, managing to squeeze his bulk onto the metal grid next to River.

"She lets me," the young woman said, hugging her arms around her knees.

"So does that mean you're angry with me?" he asked, nonchalantly examining his fingernails.

She could read his concern, and was sorry for causing it. "Not you, Jayne. Me."

"What're you angry with yourself over?" He shifted closer. "'Cause if you let me know, I can tell you off for making you cross."

"You can't make me feel better with a circular argument," she said, but she smiled a little, nonetheless.

His heart lightened. "Then why're you hiding?"

"She saw me."

Jayne stared at her. "Who, Riv?"

"Mara." If anything she hugged herself tighter.

"You wanna explain that to me?"

In answer she scuttled closer so he could put his arm around her. "I built a wall, but it wasn't quick enough. She knows I'm here."

"She know why we're coming?"

"No." River was sure about that. "But it was like looking in a mirror in a carnival funhouse. All warped and twisted."

Now he understood. "Ain't you, moonbrain," he promised, holding her tightly.

"I could have been."

He looked down into her deep eyes. "You mean they might've –"

"If I hadn't been put down for defence work. And if Mara hadn't been suitable. Or if she –"

"Lotta _if's_ there, girl."

"Then there's another. _If_ Simon hadn't come for me."

He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. "Then I'm glad he did."

"Me too," she said, snuggling into him.

"So do you wanna come down?" he asked, knowing his ass was about to go to sleep on the cold metal, and surreptitiously trying to ease it.

"Not yet." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Not yet," she repeated softer, letting his nearness soothe and bolster her.

"Whatever you want, River."

He meant it, and she knew he'd be uncomfortable forever if it meant she only felt better. She smiled at the love in her Jayne.

* * *

Mal looked at the Vanguard seeming to hang in the black in front of them, far enough off so she didn't quite fill one side of the window, but nearly. "Does he have to do that?" he asked, almost rhetorically.

Hank took it that he really wanted to know. "Mal, if he had the urge he could leave us in his dust."

"Yeah, but he could just fly next to us," his captain complained. "It doesn't have to be like he's leading the gorram way."

Alex laughed from his position just inside the doorway to the bridge. "I don't think Dillon has ever allowed himself to be second at anything."

Before they'd left Whitefall there had been a spirited discussion in the kitchen on who would travel on which ship. Despite Alex's assurances that there was plenty of room on board Columbine, Mal was adamant he'd be flying his own boat.

"Ain't leavin' her. Wouldn't put it past Patience to sell her for scrap," he said, arms planted squarely across his chest.

"And my … my father needs to stay in the infirmary for a while longer," Simon said, almost tripping over some of his words.

"You know, it's just a title," Mal pointed out. "If'n you're that worried about making him think you care, you could just call him Mr Tam."

Simon glared at him, but merely said, "He stays on Serenity."

"Shiny. And that means your Ma will want to stay put too." He looked at Alex. "Don't suppose you feel like leaving your ship here."

Alex raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Mal, don't take this the wrong way, but Columbine is worth about ten times the value of Serenity. And that's without all the fixtures and fittings. What's to stop this Patience from selling her either?"

"Point taken. You'd prob'ly never see her again." He contemplated his brother-in-law. "How many does she need to run?"

"At a pinch one man can do it. But it's better with at least two. At least, so I found when I dropped the crew off the last time I went home."

"Talkin' of which, ain't your wife expecting you some time in the next year or so?"

"I've been known to visit the outer holdings and be gone for a few months." He smiled, looking very like his twin. "Don't worry. She understands. And she's made me promise to bring Freya to visit with her and the girls."

"Not sure that's gonna be possible," Mal said. "We ain't exactly welcome in the Core, and after what we're planning I don't think we'll be changing that."

"Are we planning something?" Breed interrupted.

"Not wandering around out here for the sake of my health."

"No, I meant … actually _planning_?"

"I'm … workin' on it."

Alex smiled again. "Honestly, Mal, you don't need to worry about me. I'll make it up to Ellen and the girls when I get back. I always do."

It gave Mal an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach to realise the 'girls' Alex was talking about were Freya's nieces, and that meant they were his nieces-in-law, or some such, and were definitely Ethan and Jesse's cousins. "You miss 'em?" he asked quietly.

"Every day," Alex admitted. "You?"

"Yeah." He didn't mention that he and Freya would lay awake at night, snuggled close together, talking about how big the children would have gotten by the time they were back on board. He didn't have to.

Dillon coughed. "As sweet as this is, and I think I speak for all of us when I say I'm about to throw up, but I also think I have the solution."

Mal raised his eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Breed and I will fly Columbine while everyone else stays on Serenity. That way Gabriel gets the medical help he still needs, Regan will be here with him, and Alex can visit with his family." He grinned. "Besides, five days alone with Breed … I could get to like it."

"Your sex life ain't any of my affair," Mal said firmly, but his eyes twinkled. "You okay with that, Alex? Them defiling your ship like that?"

The younger Rostov, by all of ten minutes, laughed. "I think I can cope with it."

"Shiny. Then you go get your gear and we'll be off this hunk of rock before the hour's out."

And they had, leaving Patience a fair amount of coin lighter, promising next time she'd be the one to shoot him personally.

"And I ain't gonna wish you luck, neither. You always do seem to fall right side up."

Mal had laughed. "And you? You gonna get into trouble?"

"Over Creel? Nah. I think you'll find the poor man is gonna die of his injuries."

"Just wait 'til we're well gone 'fore that happens, _dong mah_?"

She'd just smiled at him, putting him in mind of a rattlesnake, just before it strikes.

Now, with Whitefall a distance behind them, Mal turned to look at Alex. "So what're you doing up here annoying me instead of flying your own ship?"

Alex laughed. "Freya told me to come and keep you occupied while she and the doctor prepare dinner."

"She thinks I have nothing better to do?"

"I think she wants us to bond. Seeing as we're brothers-in-law."

"Ain't never had one of those before."

"Exactly. Besides, I think she also wants to speak to Simon about his father."

Hank waved his hand. "You two kids go and have some fun. I can handle this."

Mal glared at the back of his head, but he didn't burst into righteous flame. "Come on," he said to Alex. "If we're gonna do any bonding it's gonna be in private." He led the way off the bridge, glancing towards the galley where Freya and Simon were starting their cooking, then headed down the stairs to the cargo bay.

From the corner of her eye Freya noted Mal taking Alex away from the bridge, and smiled slightly before turning to Simon. "So, what do you think we should make?"

"We?" He didn't – quite – scoff.

"Okay, okay," Freya said, holding up both hands. "I know I'm just the hired help here, and you're the master chef."

Simon laughed. "I wouldn't say that."

"I would. So would everyone else. And it's good to hear you laugh."

"Yes, well, maybe I don't think there's too much to laugh about at the moment," Simon replied, his face becoming serious again as he looked through the cupboards.

"Of course there is. And you need to forgive them."

Now Simon took on that look of belligerent stubbornness they'd come to know. "That isn't going to happen, Frey."

"Simon, I thought the same. I thought my own family didn't want anything to do with me, that they were glad I was dead." She waved her hand in the general direction of the cargo bay. "Except right now I have my brother chatting to my husband, and I got to say goodbye to my father, and I know I was wrong. And I think maybe you are too."

Simon shook his head. "They're your blood, Frey. Gabriel and Regan Tam … they just bought us."

"Because they wanted children. They wanted _you_."

"Not enough. Not enough to listen to me."

"I'm not saying they weren't in the wrong. I think what they did was inexcusable. But –"

He turned on her. "You _want_ me to excuse it?"

"No. But understand it. They're only human, Simon."

After a long moment, the young man laughed, but it was nothing like the earlier sound. "That's it, isn't it?" he said, leaning on the counter. "When you're a child, you don't think of your parents as being human. They're supermen, able to do anything, from kissing it better to … to making the sky blue. Only as you get older, you realise the kiss did nothing, and the sky's that colour anyway. But you always hope."

"And your hopes were dashed."

"Not just dashed, but pounded into the ground." That moment in the Federal station played through his mind again, as it had done a thousand times since the elder Tams had arrived unannounced.

Freya could see it, pouring off him like a wave. "He regrets it, Simon," she said softly.

"I don't care."

"Yes. You do."

He lifted his head, his blue eyes suspiciously moist. "No, Frey. I can't. I know what will happen. I'll forgive them, let them into my life, into my family … and it'll happen again. They won't be there when I need them, and maybe someone will die."

"You don't know that."

"Then maybe I'm just a damn coward. But I can't do it." He straightened up. "And I'd be grateful if we could change the subject. You're not my mother, no matter how much River says you are." His voice was sharp, and he realised as soon as he'd spoken the effect his words could have had. A faint feeling of guilt ran through him.

Freya didn't take offence. "Okay," she said, smiling gently. "When you're ready, I'm here. Or better yet, your parents aren't going anywhere either."

"Freya …"

She patted his hand and turned to the cupboards. "So, what culinary delights are we going to entertain everyone with this evening?"

* * *

Mal sat on a crate, pushing back until he was leaning against another. "Regretting your decision yet?" he asked.

Alex smiled, leaning on the cage. "Which one?"

Mal chuckled. "There been that many?"

"Depends on how far back you go. You could be asking if I regret looking for my sister."

"Considering she's my wife, I think we'd better slide right by that one."

"Probably for the best. Although, for the record, I don't regret it at all."

"Good to know."

"As for the rest, getting involved with all this …" He smiled wider, reminding Mal yet again of his close kinship to Freya. "Well, your beds don't look as comfortable as the ones on board my ship -" He laughed at the slightly affronted look on the other man's face, but then he sobered a little. "In all honesty, yes. I'd be a fool if I wasn't scared about what we're planning to do, and I may be many things, but not usually a fool."

"Well, your ship's out there. We could dock, you could go on home and forget all about us."

"Not going to do that, Mal. I'm in it for the duration."

"Even if it gets you killed."

Alex took a deep breath. "I'd rather it didn't. But the way things are … Mal, if we don't stop these things, if Gabriel is right in even the slightest way, no-one's safe. Not your children, nor mine. And I won't leave you to fight them by yourself. I can't."

Mal smiled. "Must be something in the Rostov blood," he commented. "Always ready to leap into things."

"Is Freya like that?"

"Sometimes."

"Is that how you two met?"

Mal stared. "You mean she hasn't told you?"

"Actually, she's hardly told me anything about her life between going to the Academy and me finding her again. I wouldn't even have known she was still alive if I hadn't."

He really meant it, Mal knew, and it was a shock to realise she'd probably told him less about who she was than she'd told her husband about Dillon Malfrey. "Well, I guess you could say that it was her leaping in that brought us together." With a chuckle he told Alex a slightly censored version of their first night together. "Seems to have set the seal on our life," he added. "She's been saving me ever since."

"You love her that much."

"More."

Alex seemed to relax a little. "Good."

"So, do I pass muster?"

"I think so." Alex grinned. "I have no right to be interfering in my sister's life – my parents forfeited that a long time ago. But she is still my sister, and I want her to be happy."

"I think she is."

"You certainly seem to keep her satisfied."

Mal stared at the other man, then laughed. "You're as bad as each other," he said firmly.

"I think I'll take that as a compliment."

"Prob'ly a good idea."

Above them, in the superstructure of the cargo bay, two sets of ears were wagging.

"They know we're up here?" Jayne breathed, grinning.

"No. And we shouldn't be listening."

"What, you want me to stick my fingers in my ears and hum?"

She put her head onto one side. "That might be entertaining. But unnecessary." She slid smoothly over him to the ladder. "We will go somewhere else."

"Aw, moonbrain …"

"Jayne."

Reluctantly he followed her down, well aware what a pissed off ninety pound woman, especially this one, could do.

Below them, Alex lowered himself to the floor. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"And will you answer it?"

Mal grinned. "That I can't promise. But I'll sure consider it."

"What happened to Freya? I mean the scars. On … on her body. I saw them on Niska's yacht."

"Scars …" Mal gazed at his brother-in-law for a long moment. So Frey hadn't told him about Wing either, about the atrocities committed on her body, but he could understand why. She still woke occasionally from a nightmare, and while she never told him what it was she was dreaming about, he knew. He could tell by the way she was begging them not to hurt her any more, screaming as the hammer fell … All he could ever do was hold her, wait for the struggling to cease and her eyes to open. She always apologised, and he would wipe the tears from her cheeks, but it was inevitably a long time before she slipped back into sleep, and longer for him, keeping watch over her.

Alex took his silence to mean he'd overstepped the bounds somewhat. "Sorry," he added quickly. "It's just –"

"She's your sister." Mal's lips twitched. "And I can understand that itch of curiousness. Feel it myself sometimes over some of the things I know she ain't told me."

"Is it … was it bad?" Alex blushed.

"'Bout as bad as it can get. She nearly died." _Wrapped in a tarpaulin, her hands blackened, and Simon had to cut the rings from her finger …_

"Dear Buddha …" Alex swallowed. "What happened?"

"Man thought he could get to me through her. Take something of mine like I'd taken his." _Believing she was lost to him, and praying …_

"Had you?"

"Kinda. His son tried to kill Inara. Tried to kill me too, but he didn't succeed. I shot him."

"So it was revenge? On the father's part?"

"Something like. He believed he was above the law, could do what he wanted."

"What happened to him?" Alex needed to know.

"I shot him too." _While fireworks exploded overhead, and Xavier Wing gave up his life to soak into Sheydra's dress …_

"Good."

Mal had to smile a little. "I think maybe you've been spending too much time with us. You've become a bit bloodthirsty."

"Did he see it coming?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Then it was an execution."

"That's pretty much how I look at it." Mal shook his head. "Funny, but it was on the planet we're heading to right now. The only time I've set foot on that God-forsaken rock since Serenity Valley, and now I'm going back to …" His voice faded away.

"Mal?" Alex watched as Serenity's captain sat forward, a look he didn't recognise on his face.

"Serenity Valley …" Mal stood up and strode to the com. "Hank. That map Dillon had. We still got it?"

"_I can access it."_

"Good." He thumbed a different switch and his voice boomed through the Firefly. "Zoe, get to the bridge. _Mah shong._"

"Mal, what's going on?" Alex asked, scrambling to his feet, following the other man as he took the stairs two at a time.

There was no response until both men were on the bridge, Zoe only a second ahead of them.

"Sir?" She looked into his eyes, trying to see beyond their hard blueness.

"Mal, what is it?" Freya asked, coming up behind him, Simon at her heels.

"River's right," Mal finally said, staring down at the map Hank had brought up onto the screen. "They're on Hera." His fingers ran along the topographical lines. "Zoe, take a look."

"Sir, I saw it before –"

"Zoe."

She recognised the tone, and leaned forward over Hank's shoulder. "I still don't –"

"Look closer." He glanced up at her. "The lie of that ridge, those gullies … you tell me."

She stared, trying to see what he could see, then … "_Tzao gao_," she muttered, her face a mask of shock.

"What're we missing here?" Hank asked, looking around at the others.

"The Abbey on Hera," Zoe said quietly. "Serenity Abbey."

"You mean there's a –" Simon gaped.

"It was abandoned at the start of the battle," the first mate went on, ignoring him. "They pulled their shepherds out, and it was a wise move. First few days that place took a pounding, and I doubt anything could have survived, not with what we did. Us and the Alliance."

"Didn't the Shepherds go back?" Alex wanted to know. "Once the war ended?"

"No."

"Alliance wouldn't let 'em," Mal added. "Place has been abandoned for years, and it's now part of the Serenity Valley monument." If the bitterness in his voice were visible, he'd be surrounded by a dark cloud. "Seems kinda like karma, don't you think? We're headed back where it all started."

* * *

Commander Klaus Ubermann was not happy. Not only had Captain Bennett not left him alone, badgering him to take him and the remainder of his crew back to their own vessel, but now Lieutenant Bradshaw was giving him more bad news.

"It's just too faint, sir. Even with the enhanced sensors, there just isn't enough to pick up any more."

Ubermann pursed his lips. "Did it deviate at all? From the last point you were able to track it?"

"No, sir. But there are a number of moons, as well as an asteroid cluster, in the area. Their gravitational pull could easily –"

"I understand." Ubermann sighed, seeing his promotion heading off into the black.

"Sir." One of the new crewmembers, whose name might have been Bailey, or possibly Barclay, got his attention. "A wave, sir. Marked as priority."

"With any luck it'll be telling me to dump our guests on the nearest base and get back to work," he murmured, moving to an open station and bringing up the message. As he read, a smile appeared on his lips.

"Sir?" Bradshaw was intrigued by his change in demeanour.

Ubermann looked at his subordinate. "Don't worry about tracking that engine signature. We have a new destination. Hera."

"Sir?"

"Get a course laid in," Ubermann ordered, rubbing his hands together. "We have pirates to deal with, and Iolanthe is going hunting."

A few million miles away a sleek black ship changed direction, her occupants not even needing to speak as they moved as one, smoothly inputting coordinates with hands encased in blue …


	22. Chapter 22

Kaylee couldn't wait any longer. They'd been gone from Whitefall almost a full day, she'd thrown up twice, and fixed a dozen small things needed fixing. And she'd obeyed Simon's wishes that she not go and talk to his parents.

Not that it was without ... discussion.

"If'n I don't meet 'em, how do I know what they think of me?" she'd asked, pushing back a strand of hair where it had come loose from her ponytail.

Simon stood in the doorway to the engine room. "Kaylee, I … I don't want you to feel … bad." He knew it was an excuse, and she knew it too.

"They might like me." She smiled, wiping her hands on the cloth at her waist. "There's nothing wrong with me, is there?"

"No, no, Kaylee, _bao-bei_, there's nothing wrong with you," he said quickly, crossing the threshold and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Nothing at all."

"Then why –"

"It's not you, Kaylee. It's them. I don't know how they're going to react."

Her eyes narrowed a little. "But you just said there's nothing wrong with me."

He sighed. "Kaylee, please, I really don't need an argument right now. Just trust me. It'll be a few days and they'll be gone, and we won't need to think about them any more." He'd dropped a kiss on her mouth, then headed back downstairs, leaving her staring after him, biting at her lip.

Simon had good reason to hate his parents, and she understood that, but this was getting a bit absurd. Even _Jayne_ had met them, for Buddha's sake, albeit briefly, and surely that was more of a shock than it would ever be to meet her. And from what Freya said, Bethie and the other children had been something of a hit with the older Tams, and Kaylee knew her little daughter wouldn't make friends with people who were in any way suspect.

Dinner that night had been easy – Regan had stayed with Gabriel in the infirmary, Freya taking a tray down to them both, so Alex was the only extra face at the table. He'd told some stories about when the Rostov twins were young, stories that his sister took great pains to insist weren't true, but the slight blush that ran across her cheeks suggested otherwise, and Mal made everyone laugh by asking River to borrow one of her pencils, as he wanted to make notes.

Next day, as well, Kaylee had her list of jobs, augmented by a couple from Hank that meant it was well into what passed for afternoon on board ship before she even had a chance to think about her parents-in-law. And they were, no matter what Simon said. It just wasn't fair.

She sighed, turning back to the environmental controls. They were running hot, trying to get to Hera as soon as possible, and it put other systems under pressure. Serenity wasn't exactly new, and if one thing went it usually meant some kind of cascade, and she didn't want to be the one who told the Cap that they needed a replacement catalyzer or anything, so she crawled back under the board and carried on working.

But it was too much to take. Her list took her finally to the common area, where the passenger shower was playing up, and she'd unconsciously left it until last. It had only taken a little application of a wrench and a few choice swear words, and it was running fine, and she smiled as she left the small room, but it faltered when she saw Regan sitting in the common area, her hands clasped around a mug of tea.

Sliding the wrench into the long pocket on her coveralls, she licked dry lips and walked forwards. "Hi," she said, as bright a look on her face as she could muster.

Regan looked up. "Hello."

"Are you … are you okay?"

The older woman dragged a smile up. "I'm fine. What is it that you say? Shiny? I'm shiny."

"Only you don't look it."

The smile became more honest. "Do I really look that bad?"

"No, no. Not at all. Tired, maybe." Kaylee grinned. "But not bad."

Regan laughed. "Thanks. I think."

Kaylee couldn't hold it back any longer. "Can I … you saw them?" she asked, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "You saw my babies?"

"You're Kaylee?" Regan really looked at her this time, taking her in, from the grease on her face to the teddy bear appliqué, right the way down to the sandals on her feet.

The young mechanic felt a blush burn up her skin, knowing she was being appraised, and she pushed ineffectually at her hair, trying to make a better impression than the one she was afraid she was giving. "I …" She cleared her throat. "Yes. I'm … I'm Kaylee."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Regan said, standing up and holding out her hand.

"Oh, no, you don't wanna do that," Kaylee said, taking a step back. "I'm covered in engine oil, and you don't want to get it all over your –" She had to stop, because Regan had grasped her fingers.

"Yes, I do." She smiled. "A little oil isn't going to hurt me."

"Then I'd better find you something to clean it off with." Her free hand darted around her waist, trying to find a rag that was a bit cleaner than the others.

"I'm fine, Kaylee."

"Oh." Her lips twitched. "Okay, Mrs Tam."

"Is that what you're going to call me?" Regan asked. "Only it seems a bit formal."

"I … I don't know yet," Kaylee admitted.

"No, of course not. You'll want to talk to Simon, see what he thinks."

"No, it ain't that." She was flustered, not at all sure she understood this woman. She certainly didn't seem anything like the way Simon had described her. "I just … it's gonna take me a while to work it out."

"Then why don't you call me Regan for the moment? It's my name, and it doesn't suggest any relationship that might be difficult."

"Okay." Kaylee's kind heart went out to this woman. "It's a nice name."

"Thank you. I was named for my maternal grandmother, in the hope that she'd leave me all her money."

"Did she?"

"Not a penny. It turned out she'd spent it on alcohol and wild times with young men a third of her age." She pulled the young mechanic down to sit next to her on the sofa.

Kaylee's eyes widened, following her. "She didn't."

Regan smiled. "Well, no, but I think she wished she had."

"You're awful," Kaylee reprimanded, but with no heat in it.

"I had to have something to keep me occupied during the long Osiran nights. I used to make up all sorts of stories about my family, terrible things that they'd done and got away with because of their status."

"You didn't …"

Regan smiled wider. "I did. I seem to recall telling the servants some of it, and finding it got back to the people involved, and there was a terrible fuss."

Kaylee was intrigued. "How old were you?"

"Oh, about ten. I think I got into trouble for it, but my father thought it was funny, so he didn't punish me that badly. I think I got grounded for a few weeks, but that was all." She laughed again. "Anyway, I like the name Kaylee."

The young woman grinned. "It's Kaywinnet, really. I was named after an aunt, though. Kaywinnet Lee Frye that was, 'til Simon asked me to marry him." She grinned wider, this time remembering the wedding, both of them. "A'course, I had to chase him a long time before he caught me, if you know what I mean. Not that I made him marry me, or anything," she added quickly, in case she'd given the wrong idea. "He was the one had to keep asking."

Regan smiled. "Yes. Simon always was persistent when there was something he wanted very desperately."

Kaylee blushed again. "I don't know 'bout that."

Regan squeezed her hand. "I do."

She changed the subject, pushing away the traitorous thought that if Simon had wanted her that desperately he wouldn't have spent most of the first year putting his foot firmly into his mouth. "And you did see Bethie? And Hope?"

"I did." Regan sighed. "They are so beautiful."

"I know." Kaylee swallowed back the lump that had become wedged in her throat. "It seems like so long since I've seen them, and to know you've …" She had to stop.

"Would you like to see something?" Regan asked, reaching into the purse at her feet. "Gabriel says I shouldn't have it, but I don't care." She lifted out a capture. "Your friend Inara gave it to me." She pressed play.

Kaylee sat entranced, watching all the children playing, pressing play again when it finished so she could enjoy it once more. As it ended, she looked up. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Bethie told me you're pregnant again," Regan said, smiling.

"Yep. Not too far along, least not so you can see, but ..." Kaylee grinned and patted her stomach. "Finally."

Regan raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Was there a problem?"

"Simon was sick." The look on the older woman's face made her hurry on quickly. "Not like that, but ... he caught something made him sterile."

Regan's hand flew to her mouth. "No."

"When he found out, he tried ... stuff ... to make it better, but nothing worked." The memory of her husband hanging over the toilet and throwing up after taking that medicine made her shudder internally. "'Cept my Ma gave him some special tea, and he's been drinking it off and on. And it seems it works." The grin came back.

"And does Simon look on Hope as his own?"

Kaylee nodded vigorously. "All of us do. There ain't a one on board would have to think for a mo if you asked such a thing of 'em. Hope's our baby girl, just as much as Bethie."

Regan ran her tongue over her lips. "Kaylee, I know Simon hates us, and he has every right to. But … I carried him. Him and River. Nine months, through all the morning sickness, the swollen ankles, the backache, the … the sheer exhaustion of twenty hours of labour with him, and not much less with her. No matter what he thinks, he's my son. And you're my daughter-in-law. And I am so glad I have the opportunity to get to know you, even if it's only a little bit."

Kaylee was almost speechless. "But Simon said –"

"That we'd be snobs?" Regan nodded. "I think perhaps we were. But things change. People change, if they want to. Sometimes willingly, and sometimes because it's forced on them. And I'm not going to promise that there still aren't things you won't like about us. But we're sorry." She glanced into the infirmary where Gabriel was sleeping. "Both of us. Sorry for what we did and said, didn't do and didn't say. We're sorry."

Kaylee knew she was a soft touch when it came to other people's emotions. She'd been told it often enough, but couldn't see why she should change. She didn't now, even though she'd noticed Simon standing just outside in the cargo bay. With her eyes brimming, she pulled Regan into a hug that the older woman resisted for a moment, then allowed herself to return.

Simon waited until he could follow her back into their room before confronting her. "So you ignored me."

Kaylee looked around from the mirror where she was trying to rub off some of the grease. "Had things needed saying."

"Kaylee, I asked you –"

"And I listened. But I think I got the right to make up my own mind, don't I? I mean, that's what a marriage is about, ain't it? Give and take?"

"Absolutely. But –"

"And that's what I did. Made up my own mind."

"Kaylee –"

She faced him. "Simon, why won't you talk to them?"

"You know why." His tone was low, flat.

"But Hope's our little girl, and I never –"

"I don't intend to discuss this!" He turned on his heel and strode out.

Kaylee sighed. He could be so gorram stubborn when he wanted.

* * *

Unlike the night before, dinner was strained. Even though, once again, his parents weren't there, Simon ate quickly but didn't say much beyond "Pass the bread, please." As soon as he could, he excused himself from the table, leaving them all looking at each other.

"I take it he didn't approve," Freya said softly.

Kaylee shrugged, trying not to let the pain show on her face. "Seems not." She wasn't surprised that the older woman knew.

"You talked to his kin?" Mal asked, his face gentle, kindly.

"To Regan." Kaylee pushed her plate away, her food hardly touched. "I know what they did, but …" She stopped as a tear ran down her cheek.

"You want I should go beat him up for you?" Jayne suggested. "Make him see sense?"

"No. But thanks for offering."

"Wouldn't work," River put in, moving her own food around. "His skull's too thick."

Mal shook his head. "Thought you'd be the first to agree with your bro."

She lifted her eyes briefly. "I see things … differently."

"Seems that way, _xiao nu_."

"Give him time," Freya advised. "Even if it's the wrong one, it's his decision."

"But what if it _is_ the wrong one?" Kaylee asked, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Like they said, his Pa ... Gabriel's dying. If he don't do it now, he ain't likely to ever get the chance to say goodbye."

Out of the corner of his eye Mal saw Alex glance at Freya, and knew why. Despite his own advice, she'd taken the opportunity to speak to her father just before he died, and it had had a liberating effect, cleansing her of a lot of pain that she'd carried around since she was so very young. He cleared his throat, focusing back on Kaylee. "_Mei-mei_, Frey's right. Best thing you can do right now is let him stew on it a while. But you know that, whatever he decides, you gotta be behind it. When this foolishness is done with, and they ain't on board no longer, you still gotta live with him."

"Are you saying I can't try and change his mind?"

"Nope. And you wouldn't be Kaylee if you didn't." He saw her lips twitch, and felt relieved. "Just ... do it gently. He's a man, remember. We ain't good at dealing with things like emotions. Just ask any woman."

"Ain't that the truth," Zoe agreed, earning an odd look from Hank.

* * *

"You really think that?" Hank asked, closing the hatch above him. Everyone had voted for an early night, and after checking the con one last time he'd turned the lights down and followed Zoe into their bunk.

"What?" She removed the clip at the nape of her neck, letting her hair loose to fall into its sumptuous curls across her shoulders.

"That men can't handle emotions."

She looked over at him, idly noting his untidy brown hair needed a trim, even as she also noted the concern on his face. "Does it matter?"

"A bit," he conceded. "Are we really so dense?"

Sitting down on the bed, Zoe shook her head. "Not really. But I think they make you uncomfortable, so you tend to hide them under bluster."

"Me specifically, or are we talking about the general male population?"

"Pretty much generally."

"Because I think I'm pretty good at handling emotional women. I've got badges in it."

She smiled. "You'll have to show me some day."

He crossed the room and kneeled down in front of her, leaning his forearms on her thighs. "Is this all still about Newhall?" He felt her stiffen. "Because I know you haven't quite got back to trusting me yet, but I am trying. Like Sam said, one day at a time."

She gazed into his grey eyes. "Maybe it is."

"I have a gambling problem. An addiction." He wondered when it was going to get easier to admit to, but maybe that was the point. It should never be easy, otherwise it would be equally easy to go back on his word.

"I know." She lifted a hand and stroked his cheek.

"But I've got you and Ben to keep me on the straight and narrow."

She smiled. "And I apologise."

"You do? What for?"

"Implying you can't handle emotions. I think you do it pretty well."

"Told you. Badges. And certificates." He grinned and stood up.

"Maybe we should get them framed."

"Good idea." He glanced at the closed door to Ben's room. "Do you think they're having fun?" he asked wistfully, pausing in the unbuttoning of his shirt.

"With Inara to spoil them? Let alone Mrs Boden's cooking. I doubt they'll want to come home."

He stared at her. "You don't mean that."

She moved closer to him, putting her hands on his. "No. Not one word. As much fun as it is, running around in the open air, playing with the dogs, they'll be missing us as much as we're missing them."

"That much, eh?"

"That much."

"And the cat. Don't forget Maoli."

"As if I would." She leaned closer and pressed her lips to his.

* * *

Jayne had grabbed a quick shower, always preferring to get clean when there was less likelihood of anyone – particularly Hank – catching him and commenting. Not that they would any more, but it was a habit he didn't see the point in breaking. Stepping back into the shuttle he could see River sitting cross-legged and naked on the bed, her sketchpad on her knees, her pencil working quickly, although her gaze seemed to be out beyond Serenity's hull.

"What's up, Riv?" he asked, pulling the towel from around his waist and hanging it up to dry.

"There's more," she whispered, finishing and turning the page even as he watched.

"More what?"

She wasn't even looking at him, just firm strokes of the pencil across the surface of the paper. "They know more." She pressed too hard and the point broke. She glared at it angrily, tossing it to one side and picking up another.

It took only a couple of steps to be at her side. Gently he pushed the pad down with one hand, taking the pencil from her with the other. "River, honey … control."

She hissed at him and grabbed for the pencil, but he kept it out of her reach. "Mine," she whispered, lunging again for it.

"Moonbrain …" He did what he still found so difficult – he opened up his mind to her. _River._

She stared at him, then seemed to shrink into herself as if she only now realised where she was. "Jayne?"

"I'm here." He picked her up, wondering if it was his imagination that she seemed lighter than usual. Turning, he sat down, letting her wrap herself around him. "You dreaming?"

"No," she admitted. "But I thought I was."

"That Mara again, ain't it?" He rocked her gently.

"I don't know. Some, I think, but not all." She clung to him.

"You said there's more, that they know more. Who?"

"My parents." She had begun to shiver, her naked form showing goosebumps in the dim light.

He rubbed her back, trying to warm her up. "Bad stuff?"

"They know more."

"Does Mal need to hear this?"

She nodded, her thumb travelling towards her mouth but staying on her lip. "Yes."

"Then we'd better go see him, don't ya think?"

"It's late."

"Is it important?"

She bit her lip. "Yes."

"They awake?"

River concentrated a moment. "Yes."

A thought occurred to the big man, and his face took on a faint look of disgust. "They ain't doing what I think they're doing, are they? 'Cause I don't think Mal's gonna take too kindly to being interrupted in mid –"

"No. They've finished. They're just talking."

"Then he ain't gonna mind. Well, not too much." He stood up, her still in his arms. "Better put some clothes on, though. Frey might not mind, but I ain't walking 'round Serenity in my birthday suit."

* * *

Freya stood in the doorway to the nursery, her arms crossed over her breasts. "I miss them," she said quietly.

Mal roused himself from the post-coital malaise that threatened to make him sleep. "So do I, _ai ren_."

"I know." She glanced over her shoulder at him, the mussed hair and half-closed blue eyes making her smile. "You think they're missing us?"

He got up, crossing the small room to stand behind her, his warmth against her back. Snaking his arms around her waist, he laid his hands palm-flat on her belly. "You tell me."

"They are," she agreed. "Ethan wants to come home. He thinks his place is here, on board ship." She sighed. "The day you decide you want us to retire, he's going to be calling himself captain before you've even managed to get the words out."

Mal laughed, and she could feel the vibration through her.

"Frey, I ain't ever intending retiring. Couldn't afford it."

"But if you did. Where would you like to set up home?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

He pondered a moment, then said, "Phoros. The Fryes are right nice folks, all twenty thousand of 'em, and I kinda like the atmosphere there."

Freya chuckled. "Kaylee will love you forever."

"Already does." He winced then grinned as she pinched him.

"But not Persephone? Dillon and Breed would like that."

"And be close to Badger? Nope. They can come visit instead."

She leaned her head back on his shoulder. "What about Lazarus?"

Mal shook his head. "That's Inara's home."

"We could still build somewhere of our own."

He put his head onto one side so he could see her profile. "You been thinking about this? There something you think I should know?"

"No. Not really. Just ... you know, when I can't sleep."

"I'm surprised you ain't suggested Osiris, to be close to your own kin."

"That's not my home any more, Mal. This is."

"Yet you're talking 'bout making another someplace else."

"One day," she pointed out. "And not for a very long time yet."

"Then maybe I'll change my mind. There's perhaps a place better suited to us."

She turned in his arms so she could look into his face, pressing her body against his. "Oh? Where's that?"

He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Prometheus."

She didn't answer straight away, making him worried he'd said the wrong thing, reminded her of the daughter they'd never got to see, but then she smiled. "Yes. That would be good."

"Prom it is, then. Eventually." He dropped his head and kissed her gently, feeling his body beginning to respond again.

Except someone was knocking on the hatch, opening it almost immediately.

"Mal, you down there?" Jayne's voice filled the bunk.

"No, I'm dancing a jig on Londinium. Where the hell do you think I'd be?" Mal asked in turn, more than a little waspishly.

The ex-mercenary didn't take offence. "Think you'd better get some clothes on and get up here. River says it's important."

Mal looked into Freya's brown eyes, and she nodded. "Two minutes," he called.

* * *

The infirmary was empty, and Mal turned to look at River.

"Simon put Father into one of the guest rooms," she explained, somewhat sheepishly. "I didn't think to say."

"Which one?"

The young woman didn't answer, but led the way towards the far quarters.

"Where _is_ Simon?" Freya asked. "The mood he was in I doubt he's gone to bed."

"Using my weights," Jayne answered. "I think he's tryin' to wear himself out. Boy's still angry."

Mal shook his head. "I conjure that ain't likely to improve in the next few minutes?"

"Unlikely," River agreed.

"Then we won't interrupt. It might be better the fewer people listening anyway." He stopped outside an open door.

Gabriel looked up from the book he was reading. "Captain Reynolds."

"Mr Tam."

"I thought we'd decided on first names," the older man said with a smile.

"That was before River here told me you were still keeping secrets."

"Secrets."

Mal nodded, just once. "Glad to see you ain't denying it."

"How could I? With a psychic for a daughter?"

"It's a step in the right direction, but that's all it is, a step. You've got further to go than that."

"Oh, I know, Captain." Gabriel sat up more. "And you're right. I haven't – quite – told you everything."

"Then I think you'd better start."


	23. Chapter 23

"I'm waiting." Mal stood in the small room, his height making the ceiling seem lower still. Thumbs caught in his pants' pockets, he stared down at the man on the bed.

Gabriel Tam gathered himself a moment, looking from Serenity's captain to Freya, then past them. He could see River in the corridor, standing close to the man who'd saved their lives, the demi-mountain who was apparently her husband.

"He is," she whispered.

Gabriel started, realising she'd read his mind. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to –"

Mal turned and glared at her. "Albatross, can we hold off on the slushy stuff until I've gotten to the bottom of this? And I'll be reminding you that you were the one said this is important."

"Sorry." She leaned closer in to Jayne.

"Why don't you ask her to tell you?" Gabriel wanted to know. "If she's read my mind –"

"Kinda like to hear it from you. If you don't mind."

"I understand. And please let me apologise for not telling you everything right from the beginning."

"Whether I accept that or not depends on the information. And I'm still waiting."

"Of course." Gabriel nodded, noting Regan appearing behind Jayne and River. "Some of it you know. At least, I got that impression from Andrew Brooks."

Mal remembered the old man, Simon's mentor. They'd both been there on Corvus when he died, poisoned because of information he had, things he knew. "Go on."

"Andrew and I talked, over the years. About a lot of things. But mostly he told me about you." Gabriel fixed River with his eyes, the way he used to when she was a child. "About how I was wrong. That Simon was right." He had to swallow back on the emotion before it spilled down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"Accepted." She wondered why she wanted to hug him, but she denied herself, instead taking hold of Jayne's hand and holding on tightly.

He looked disappointed, but went on, "One of the other things we talked about was his belief concerning the true nature of the psychic gene. He was a brilliant scientist, much more so than he ever let on, and his brain had been working on it for a while. But there was something else, something I believe he only told me." He leaned back, a wave of weakness washing through him. "You heard of the phrase 'the unstoppable force versus the immovable object'?"

"I've come across it," Mal admitted, somewhat grudgingly.

"Riv?" Jayne muttered.

"It's a paradox," she murmured. "If an unstoppable force, by its very nature unstoppable, should meet an object that cannot be moved, they would have to destroy each other."

"And?"

She shrugged. "That's it."

"Oh. Thanks."

Mal only raised an eyebrow, then looked back at Gabriel. "Go ahead."

"Well, from what Andrew said, he considered that Simon and River's genetic father, whoever he was, was the immovable object. His mother was, at least in hereditary terms, nothing. Andrew was convinced it was the male gene that actually has the psychic strand built in."

"Yeah. I remember him saying. Which explains Bethie, coming from Simon's side, but not –"

"It takes two, Captain. That's what Andrew ultimately came to believe. One of each. An immovable object and an unstoppable force."

"You mean River's mother," Freya put in quietly.

"Yes. What Andrew called a potential. In truth even with both sides to the equation there's no guarantee of success," Gabriel went on. "Andrew said they tried it again, but had no success."

"Except with Mara," Mal said, taking a deep breath.

"Apparently."

"So Simon really is the key."

"Simon and any other potential. Yes." Gabriel gazed at River again. "You can only pass on the female potential, my dear. Not the gene. But -"

"Simon can," Mal finished.

"Yes. You know, he really is like the immovable object, isn't he? Strong, solid, dependable." Gabriel couldn't help the slight smile. "I wish he _was_ my son. I'm so proud of him."

Mal made a mental note to pass on that little bit of information at a more appropriate time. "And Kaylee?"

Freya answered for the older Tam. "Unstoppable. And more than just potential. With her talking to Serenity, her mother reading tea leaves … add Simon and -"

"Explosions?"

"Bethie. Yes."

"But that little girl didn't go through anything to bring it out," Mal argued. "How could she be -"

"Kaylee. The 'more than potential'." She swallowed hard, fear growing in her heart for her own children, knowing what River thought he could have been forced to become. "That's why Bethie's psychic, not because of Simon on his own."

"Exactly," Gabriel confirmed.

"And why Caleb shows no signs," River added.

Jayne squeezed her hand tighter. "Never did think I had anything special 'bout me," he whispered to her.

_My Jayne_, he heard in his mind, reassuring him. _Special to me._

Gabriel took a deep breath. "They can breed from the female potentials until the cows come home, but they'll never get more than people who talk to machinery … unless they have the male gene."

"Simon."

"Yes. And that is the root of what I have to tell you." Gabriel took a deep breath, and looked up at Mal. "They know, Captain. About the immovable object. I don't know how, but … I imagine it's why your friend Patience was tasked with the job of getting you to Argos. Quintana wants Simon."

"What? Why?" A mixture of expressions crossed Mal's face that would have been comical at any other time. At any _other_ time.

"I don't know if it was something he'd discussed with Andrew - they knew each other once, some time ago. But my sources tell me Quintana believes Simon can help him create the next generation of psychics."

"And you didn't think to tell me this when we were back on Whitefall?" Mal let his anger show. "When maybe I could have done something about making the doc stay behind?"

"Captain, from what I've seen, neither hell nor high water would have forced Simon off this ship." Gabriel smiled a little, but it was bleak. "I'm glad Bethie isn't here, though. That she's safe."

Mal's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Freya took his arm. "If Quintana bred from her, perhaps even using Simon's own genetic material, the chances of a powerful psychic would be greatly increased," she explained softly.

Mal stared at her. "Bred? You make it sound like they're cattle!"

"It's how Quintana sees things," Gabriel said, nodding. "He might appear that he cares about his subjects, but he's single-minded. Blinkered. To him, they're a means to an end, and if they fail him, he disposes of them and tries again with another."

"Then how come he's allied himself with these New Browncoats?" Mal wanted to know.

"Revenge. The Alliance stopped his experiments but he's found someone to let him continue. Once he's achieved his aim and Parliament lies in bloody, broken ashes, he'll move on to the next."

"But Bethie's only a kid," Jayne rumbled. "How could he -"

"Mr Cobb, Quintana's done things that would make even you blanch." Gabriel shook his head. "Don't underestimate him. People have before, and they've died because of it."

"Wait a minute," Freya said suddenly. "You said you didn't know. That Simon and River were half-siblings. But you've made it sound as if Andrew told you."

"Yes, Father. Why don't you explain that?" Simon pushed past his mother and stepped into the small room. "I for one would like to hear your excuse this time."

"Did you -" Mal began, but River interrupted.

"All of it," she said sadly.

"A little heads up next time wouldn't go amiss, _xiao nu_."

Gabriel went to speak, to ask why this man, this transport captain with a sometimes unsavoury reputation, was calling River his daughter, but Simon didn't let him.

"Come on, Father. You told us you didn't know." Simon's voice was quiet, low, emotionless.

"I ... I'm sorry. Andrew told me. When you disappeared. When I wanted to put out a DNA tracer to try and find you. He … he told me then. Said I mustn't. But I never told your mother." He looked apologetically at Regan. "It wouldn't have done any good. We loved you, and we lost you. Whether -"

"God, no wonder you didn't want to say anything," Simon interrupted. "How many other things have you lied about, Father?" Bitterness now filled his words.

"Probably more than even I'm aware of. But this is the honest truth. They're still after you, Simon," Gabriel said, getting to his feet. "Men have been to the house, demanding I tell them where you are."

"Alliance?" Mal asked.

"Yes. Odd men, always in pairs. Wearing blue gloves."

Freya glanced at River, then asked, "What did you tell them?"

"Nothing. I couldn't. And more importantly, I wouldn't." Gabriel spoke directly to Simon. "I'd do anything to protect you."

The young man scoffed. "Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

"It's the truth."

"You wouldn't know the truth if it leaped up and bit you."

"Simon, I don't know how many times I have to apologise, but -"

"Always once more, Father." There was so much venom in the last word that Simon almost spat it. "Always once more." They were face to face now, barely a hand-width between them.

"What's going on?" Kaylee, clad only in a hastily donned t-shirt and a pair of Simon's sleep pants, leaned in the doorway.

"Nothing," Simon said, not looking round.

"Don't sound like nothing. You're all talking loud enough to wake the dead."

"Go back to bed, Kaylee. It's just another example of how I can't trust my so-called father." Despite his request she leave, he added, "He knew, Kaylee. That River wasn't my full sister."

"So?" She crossed the room to stand next to him.

This time he glared at her, and she gasped at the coldness in his eyes. "I said he knew! That we were created, that someone was playing God, that -"

She shook her head. "Simon, does that matter?"

"Of course it does! He lied, Kaylee. His whole life … our entire relationship with the Tam family … it's all been one ugly lie!"

"No, it's not," Gabriel put in. "Simon, you have to understand. We wanted you, so desperately, that we -"

"I don't believe you!"

"Stop it!" Kaylee yelled suddenly, startling everyone except River. "You're as bad as each other!" She scowled fiercely at them, then sat down heavily on the bed, her arms wrapped around herself.

"_Bao bei_?" Simon was immediately at her side, checking her pulse with one hand, doing a guestimate of her blood pressure with the other. "Kaylee?"

Mal was the other side, looking into her face. "_Mei-mei_, breathe. You just remember to breathe, now."

Gabriel took a step forward. "Is she all right?" he asked, his own face pale.

"Kaylee, do you have any pain?" Simon looked down at her stomach.

"I'm okay," she said, pushing him away. "I've just … had enough. I don't care how you do it, but you're gonna settle things with your folks." She glanced at Gabriel, at Regan standing next to River. "We're headed into something against people as want us out of the 'verse, and I don't need to be worrying about this as well. It ain't good for the baby." She put her hand on her still flat belly, seeing Freya nodding approvingly out of the corner of her eye.

Simon felt guilt pour into him. He'd been so wrapped up in the blame he'd heaped on his parents he'd forgotten the most important person to him. "Kaylee -"

"Now I ain't having you talking no more about the fact that you and River ain't their natural kids," she went on quickly, not allowing him to say anything more. "Neither is Hope ours, but I know you'd kill anyone as said different."

"Well, maybe not actually -" He stopped at her look. "Maim, perhaps."

She nodded firmly. "That'll do fine. And it weren't your folks fault that Blue Sun were playing fast and loose, so you can't go blaming 'em for that either. So the only thing you've got to discuss is the fact that they didn't believe you." She held up a hand to forestall him. "And I know it's a biggie. I ain't _that_ stupid."

"You're not stupid at all," Simon managed to put in.

"Well, shiny. But it ain't gonna get better if you leave it to fester. You're a doc. You know what happens if you do that, and it ain't like we got the drugs to deal with it." She stood up. "Now, I'm going back to bed. Frey, would you mind helpin' me?"

"Not at all."

The two women walked out of the small room, everyone staring at them as they left.

"_Run-tse duh fuo-tsoo_, Simon," Gabriel whispered. "She's magnificent."

"Yes, she is," the young doctor agreed, pride warring with the guilt in his guts.

Mal coughed lightly to get their attention. "I think maybe Kaylee's got the best idea anyway," he said. "We got several days to go 'fore we reach Hera, and plenty more time to talk. So while I tend to agree with her suggestion that you all need to clear the air, probably best it wait 'til morning." He stepped out into the corridor. "G'night."

"Night, Mal," Jayne said, lifting a vaguely protesting River into his arms and striding out for the cargo bay and their shuttle.

Mal shook his head slightly and headed towards the stairs, Freya catching up with him as he started up. "She okay?" he asked softly.

"Kaylee's fine," his wife asserted.

"That fainting fit of hers … she laying it on?"

"A little. But she really has had enough of the atmosphere. And it probably isn't good for the baby."

Mal slipped his arm around her waist. "Always did conjure that girl had more sense than the rest of us."

"Simon loves her," Freya pointed out. "And he'll try and make things better just because of that."

Mal squeezed. "I know the feeling, _ai ren_." They rounded the corner.

"What?" Freya asked.

"Huh?"

"You wanted to ask something."

"Did I?"

"I can see it, Mal."

In the top corridor he stopped. "Peekin'?"

"I just know my husband."

He turned her towards him. "Then you know what it's about."

She nodded slowly. "Ethan and Jesse."

"I conjure you'd be as scared as me."

"Yes." She sighed heavily. "If Andrew Brooks was right Ethan will carry the gene, and Jesse the potential."

"But that don't make sense. You're the psychic, not me."

She almost smiled. "I don't see why men shouldn't carry the potential as well, and I have to have the gene encoded in my DNA to be psychic in the first place. And Ethan _can_ hear us speaking."

"If Andrew was right."

"Yeah."

"And Jesse?"

"I don't know." She sounded so concerned that he wrapped her in his arms. "She's not showing any signs, but … I don't know, Mal."

"I do. She's our baby. Yours and mine. And we'll protect her."

"That we will."

He attempted to lighten the mood a little. "So you figure I'm one of these unstoppable forces."

"I think you're one of the 'more than potentials', like River's said before."

"Always knew there was something extra special about me." He looked deep into her eyes. "Now, ain't you glad you finally stopped runnin' so I could catch you?" He tried not to laugh at the affrontery on her face.

* * *

Back in the guest quarters, Simon had turned to his father. "You'd better come to the infirmary so I can make sure you haven't … that you're okay," he said, trying to stay professional.

Gabriel felt his mouth twitch. "Simon, I'm fine. Dying, but fine."

"It's nothing to laugh at. The later stages of Mandel's can be -"

"Simon, I know. I've had doctor after doctor telling me how bad it's going to get, but I'm not quite that far gone yet." He sighed heavily. "But I do feel tired. It must be being out in space," he added, sitting back down on the bed. "I haven't slept this much in years."

"Kaylee would say it was Serenity singing to you," Simon said.

"It might be," Gabriel smiled. "There's something very comforting about the engine noise."

"Then I'll let you get some rest." He turned, passing his mother, giving himself a moment to rest his hand on her arm before stepping out of the room.

"Are we … going to talk?" Gabriel asked.

Simon looked back. "Kaylee says we should."

"And do you always do what your wife says?"

Finally Simon smiled, just a little. "If I don't want to be put out of the airlock, yes."

"How it should be," Gabriel agreed. "Tomorrow?"

For a moment the young doctor didn't speak, then nodded, just once. "Tomorrow." He walked around to his own quarters, sliding the door open. Kaylee was already inside, sitting on the bed, still dressed in the t-shirt and sleep pants. "Are you planning on wearing those all night?" he asked gently, smiling at her.

"Are you plannin' on talking to your Pa instead of shouting?" she countered.

"Yes."

"Then maybe I'll go to bed naked."

"That would be nice." He closed the door behind him and began to undress.

"Is he … is he gonna be psychic?" Kaylee asked suddenly, her hands protecting her belly.

Simon turned to stare at her. "He?"

"I know it's a boy. My Ma said so."

Her husband chuckled. "So did River."

"And she oughtta know. And you ain't gonna change the subject."

He went down onto his heels and looked into her eyes. "I don't know, Kaylee. Bethie is psychic because of us. You and me. My genes and your ability to talk to machinery. Our baby … our _son_ … is going to come from the same stock. But there's no guarantee he'll be psychic himself. He may just carry the gene like I do."

"And if he is?"

"Kaylee, if he is, will you love him any the less?"

"No!" She was shocked he could even suggest it.

"Neither will I." He lifted himself up to sit next to her. "And there's just as much chance he'll have blue eyes."

"What?" Confusion made her own eyes narrow.

"It's all the genetic mix, _bao bei_. Dark hair, blue eyes, being psychic … it's like a lottery. The same numbers go in, but entirely different sequences come out."

"Is that mechanic dummy talk?" she asked, only slightly accusingly.

"Perhaps. But it's also true." He placed one hand over hers. "And it doesn't matter. We'll love the little boy just as much, and protect him, whether he's got blue eyes or not."

She smiled. "You're a good man, Simon Tam."

"Only because I'm married to an incredible woman." He shook his head. "Do you know how my … my father described you? As magnificent."

Kaylee coloured slightly. "He did?"

"And he was right."

"See?" she said in triumph. "There's at least something you can agree on."

He pulled at the waistband of the pants. "So are you going to get out of these?" he asked, leaning forward and dropping a kiss onto the soft skin at the base of her neck.

"Might." She half-closed her eyes. "Seeing as I'm so magnificent …"


	24. Chapter 24

"You should have woken us," Hank complained, turning enough in the pilot's seat so he could look at the man standing behind him. "I could've done with a laugh."

"Nothing to laugh at," Mal chided. "Finding out there's a madman looking for Simon ain't exactly my idea of fun." He'd updated the rest of the crew about Quintana's desire to get hold of Simon at breakfast that morning.

"But we already knew someone was after him, sir," Zoe said, perched on the edge of the console. "From what Theo said."

"Oh, I agree. And we ain't no worse off than before by knowing who it is now." Mal shook his head. "I just wish I'd had the chance to leave him and Kaylee someplace safe."

"You know they'd never leave," Hank pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'd've felt better for the argument."

"You want an argument? I can oblige." Hank ran a hand through his untidy brown hair.

Mal glared at his pilot. "I'm sure you can. Not so sure you can breathe vacuum without a suit, but …"

"Honey, is he threatening me?"

Zoe nodded. "Yes."

"Oh. Fine. Just so I know."

She looked back to Mal. "He is right, though. Simon wouldn't have gone, nor Kaylee. But this does make me feel somewhat uncomfortable about the cargo we're carrying."

Mal nodded. "I know what you mean. Been feeling that way myself." He took a deep breath, exhaling it heavily. "You know, Zoe, I feel like I'm being manipulated, having my strings pulled."

"Sir?"

"They're just leading me round, making me do what they want, and I'm just following their script." He shook his head. "Alliance, New Browncoats … I don't like it. I'd have more control if I had a ring through my nose – least then I could pull back on it."

Hank stirred in his seat as if he really wanted to make some snarky comment, but luckily he refrained.

Zoe's boot on his foot might have had something to do with it.

"What do you suppose we're actually carrying?" she asked.

"Don't know, and neither did Patience. She said she never looked."

"And you trust her?"

"Not even as far as I could throw her." He smiled. "But there's always one way to find out. And it's not like we're planning on actually delivering the goods."

"Good idea, sir."

They walked down to the cargo bay, finding Jayne working out. He'd just finished his pull-ups and was checking the barbell when all three came down the stairs. "This some kind of outing?" he asked, picking up his towel and wiping his hands on it.

"Nope," Mal said. "But since you're here, you can help." He walked up to the biggest crate. "Open it up."

Jayne smiled slightly and dropped the towel on his bench.

* * *

Between the four of them, it was only the work of a matter of minutes to lever off various lids and sides, bringing the contents into the light of day.

"_Cao_," Mal said.

"For once I agree with you," Hank murmured.

"That what I think it is?" Jayne asked.

"It is," Zoe confirmed, running her hands over the Alliance flag on the side of the 'Blue Sun DNA Gene Splicer Mark 3.4 – Ultimatron', as it very prominently said.

Mal looked at the other equipment they'd uncovered. Each and every one was some high end medical device or other, and one even appeared to be a ViroStim, although of a newer type than they'd acquired. "Cell synthesisers, cryounits …" He felt his gun hand begin to itch. "Just about everything a man needs to start his own species."

"And I imagine every bit of it stolen," his first mate added.

He nodded, glancing at her. "I conjure you're right."

"But we were going to deliver this to Argos," Hank pointed out. "There's a Fed station there. What if we'd been boarded by the Alliance?"

"Then we'd all be bound and charged with smuggling stolen high end goods. And probably with being traitors to boot." Mal almost laughed humourlessly. "I hear the prisons have improved since the war, and we'd probably have had a goodly long while to experience them. That is, if they didn't decide to make an example out of us."

Hank swallowed, remembering his all too close encounter with a hangman's noose. "But that wouldn't get them Simon," he argued.

Mal leaned on the genetic encoder. "Hank, they pinched Mara out from under the noses of the Feds. If Simon got arrested, how long do you think it would be before they managed to get him too?"

"Oh." Hank subsided a little. "I guess you're right."

"So what do we do with it?" Jayne asked. "'Cause if I get a vote I say we put it out the airlock."

"I don't know about that," Mal said. He kicked the gene splicer. "This stuff's worth a pretty penny."

"And it's as good as handcuffs on us."

Mal was surprised. "In the right place this'd fetch enough to keep you in ammo for half a lifetime. I thought you'd be wanting your share."

"Not of this." The big man took a step forward. "Mal, we got troubles coming our way. Don't go looking for more."

Mal gazed at his gunhand until Jayne began to feel just a little nervous. "No, you're right," he finally said. "But we don't need to dump it, just leave it someplace safe." He looked at Hank. "Ain't there a black rock out on the edge of Hera's orbit?"

The pilot nodded. "Not much bigger than an asteroid," he confirmed. "Got a whole load of crap circling with it, too. Probably the remains of a moon that didn't take kindly to terraforming."

"Lot of that about." Mal glanced at the equipment again. "Can we get to it easily?"

"Easily, maybe not. But with the right man at the controls we can probably keep from running into something damaging."

"That would be preferable." Mal stood straight. "Jayne, get this stuff crated back up. We'll leave it there and pick it up on the way back."

"That's assuming we're gonna be coming back in one piece," the ex-mercenary growled.

"Oh, I'm not assuming anything at this juncture," Mal said, heading for the stairs. "But I live in hope."

* * *

Regan was sitting in the common area, trying to read. It was one of Hank's novels, the lurid cover professing it to be titled _Dangerous Love_, with the picture of an alien embracing a rather scantily clad human female. So far there had been no aliens and little in the way of nudity, but there was something intriguingly mind-numbing about it, and she turned the next page.

"I can tell you how it ends, if you like."

She looked up, seeing River in the doorway to the cargo bay, her hands locked behind her back, her feet bare. "I think I can guess." She smiled. "Your pilot offered me the pick of his library when I said I had nothing to read." She glanced down at the woman's cleavage. "Are they all like this?"

"Yes." River shrugged. "He likes them, and they cost very little."

"I'm not surprised."

"And it's safer than going onto the Cortex at the moment to download anything."

Regan told herself off for being surprised. "You read me."

"Yes. I have to protect my family."

Now Regan wasn't so much surprised as shocked. "And you think I'm a threat?"

"Not any more."

"Well, I'm glad about that." She breathed out slowly. "And yes, I did ask Hank if he could download me a book or two. I've left all mine on Columbine."

"Better to read Hank's. Safer. In case anyone is listening."

Regan coloured slightly. "I didn't realise people could eavesdrop like that."

"You haven't been on the run long enough to make it second nature."

"I suppose that's true. And we're your family too, River."

"I know." River looked down at her bare toes, as if she'd come over shy. "Is Simon in with Father?"

"Yes." Regan nodded, then sighed. "They're … talking."

River giggled suddenly, and it was like the sun turned on. "He loves Kaylee," she said simply, lifting her face, her dark eyes full of mischief.

"I saw that. But I thought I'd better leave them to it," Regan explained. "It's difficult enough for your brother, but if I was there as well …"

"He's trying."

"I know."

"Very trying."

Regan's eyes widened in surprise. "River –"

"Just saying." She put her head onto one side, and for a long moment just stared at her mother, the mischief turning to something like longing, before asking diffidently, "Will you … will you brush my hair?"

"What?"

"Like you used to. When I was little."

An image flooded Regan's mind of a girl going to school in her pinafore and shiny patent shoes, hair in tight pigtails, and for a moment she saw that child in place of the young woman in front of her. She blinked hard. "I didn't think you remembered."

"I remember everything."

Just three words, and Regan felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest. She swallowed painfully. "I'm so sorry, River."

The young psychic just repeated, "Will you? Brush my hair?"

"Of course," Regan said, putting the book down onto the table and holding out her arms.

River might be a wife with a baby of her own, but it was the little girl who hurried down the steps and settled on the floor at her mother's feet, holding up the hairbrush she'd had hidden behind her back.

Regan took it and began to brush through her daughter's long dark hair. There were some knots, high at the back, and she took time to tease them out, one by one. "Doesn't Jayne do this for you?" she asked softly.

"Yes. But it gets untidy again if he does."

Her mother laughed. "And does he make you happy?"

"We are two sides of the same coin. I see myself reflected in him, we complement and confirm, chastise and castigate each other …" She glanced over her shoulder. "And yes. He makes me happy."

"Then that's all a mother can ask."

"Really?"

"Well, perhaps I did want you to have a big house, lots of servants, horses –"

"Horses would have been nice. But I have a home. A family."

Regan glanced towards the room she and Gabriel were using. "River, sweetheart, can you tell your Captain not to call you _xiao nu_? Your father was … well, somewhat upset by it."

"Mother, Simon was right. He came for us when Father wouldn't have, while Freya has saved me so often. And you keep saying family is more than blood."

"Do you really feel like that? That the Reynolds' mean more to you than we do?"

River didn't answer, and that told Regan more than she honestly cared to know, and she concentrated on making her daughter's hair shine.

Eventually River stirred. "Why didn't you believe Simon?" she asked in a neutral voice.

Regan swallowed, debating whether to lie, but realising there wasn't much point. Better to be honest and risk losing her child once and for all. "I … I thought it was a game. Or at least I told myself it was. Your father and I … Gabriel and I … we were having problems, and I didn't need the added complications of …" She saw the tension in River's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"No game."

"I know that now. And if I could I'd kill the people who did that to you. I would take your Captain's gun and shoot every last one." She started brushing again. "I am so, so sorry, my darling."

River leaned back against her legs. "You used to do this when I came in from school."

"I remember."

"And you would sing to me."

"Did I?"

"Not words. Just little bits of music, from ballets and operas … telling me the stories behind them. Will you do it again?"

"River, I –"

"Please?"

Regan looked down at her daughter's face, gazing up at her, so young and innocent yet with the weight of half the 'verse on her shoulders. "All right," she said, and began to hum a melody from her favourite ballet, _Swan Lake_, as she worked on the hair spread across her lap.

River settled back, her eyes closed, for a while just feeling contentment.

* * *

"Hyprobetamoxomol."

"Who thinks up these names?"

"I don't know. But it's the name of the drug I was taking."

"Did it work?"

"Not … really."

Simon was sitting, somewhat stiffly, in one of the passenger dorms. His hands were in his lap, and he knew he looked as if he was about to undergo an interview, but that couldn't be helped. As much as he really didn't want to be doing this, Kaylee was insistent, and because he loved her here he was, face to face with his father. With Gabriel Tam.

"Why didn't it?"

Simon took a deep breath. "Kaylee … refused to let me complete the treatment."

"Why would she do that?"

"It has … unfortunate side effects." _Like tachycardia, dangerously high temperatures …_, he thought to himself, adding silently,_ and making far too intimate an acquaintance with the toilet bowl._

"She was concerned about you."

"I know. But I was doing it for her, for the second child she wanted."

"Which she's now having," Gabriel pointed out.

"Third."

"Ah, yes. Hope."

Simon licked his lips, aware his next words would be hard to say. Still, he was a grown man, and it needed saying. He cleared his throat. "Father, about that … I was being a hypocrite."

"Not quite." Gabriel shook his head. "You saw a child in need and decided to make her one of your family. Not quite the same as buying embryos."

"Close enough. And the why isn't as important as the fact that Hope isn't my blood or even Kaylee's, but we're still her parents."

"Then apology accepted."

"I don't recall apologising."

"No. Perhaps not." Gabriel wanted to smile, to clap the young man in front of him on the shoulder and tell him to stop being such a _lu zi_, but he knew Simon would never accept it. As it was, they were both sailing very close to talking about the real problem between them, and he wasn't sure he was ready. Not when they were in the same room, and not actually fighting.

Simon took a deep breath. "Father, I –"

Gabriel interrupted. "Kaylee is an amazing woman."

His son exhaled. Fine. If he didn't want to talk about it, then maybe it wasn't the right time. "Yes. Yes, she is. I'm very lucky."

"The way she looks at you is how your mother used to look at me." Gabriel spoke almost longingly, as if he was gazing into the past. "At least, when we first met."

"She was very beautiful," Simon agreed.

"She still is." Gabriel allowed himself a small smile.

"Yes. Do you still love her?"

The question surprised the older Tam. "Do I? With all the problems we've had, the fact that she left me, went off to do her own thing, live her own life, do I still love her? What do you think?"

Simon felt his lips lift. "I think you love her very much."

Gabriel laughed. "That I do."

"That's … nice."

"Nice? Oh, Simon, ever the diplomat and damning with faint praise."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You've got nothing to be sorry about. You saved your sister. I didn't."

Simon was aware of the ice cracking under their feet, and this time it was him who didn't want to venture any further out. "Jayne has had a big hand in that, too."

"Yes." Gabriel leaned back, feeling lassitude spreading through his body. "And I must thank him. If he'll let me."

"River would like it."

"Then I'll speak to him later." He tried to suppress a yawn.

Simon stood up. "You'd better get some rest."

Gabriel looked at him, his brown eyes shrewd. "Is that your professional opinion?"

"It is."

"Then I'll just take a nap. My son, the doctor, has prescribed it." He closed his eyes, and in less than a minute was asleep.

Simon watched him for a while, then backed slowly out of the room, closing the door as quietly as possible. As he crossed the common area, he pondered on the fact that they'd skirted around the real issues, more like two associates than father and son. He told himself he shouldn't feel disappointed, that at least they were talking. And yet suddenly it didn't seem enough.

He had his foot on the bottom tread of the staircase when he heard a soft voice.

"He's trying to atone."

He looked up. His sister sat on the old yellow sofa, her legs drawn up

"It's too late, River."

"It's never too late." She patted the cushion next to her, then again when he didn't move. "Until it's too late."

He dropped into the seat. "River -"

"He's dying."

"I know. I'm a doctor, remember?"

"But even if he wasn't, if he was in the rudest of health, he'd be here. Trying to stop this from happening."

He half-turned to look at her. "He abandoned you, River."

"He was stupid." She took his hand. "But that was all. He didn't sell me."

He stared, knowing that it had been a fear that surfaced in the dark hours of the night, bathing him in a cold sweat as he lay there, afraid his father had sold his only daughter for gain. "You know that?"

She tapped her temple with her free hand. "I _know _it."

He had to smile slightly. "You read him."

"Had to keep everyone safe. To see if it was all true."

He was serious again. "I can't forgive him, River. No matter what Kaylee wants, I just can't. Not just like that. We were his children, yet he thought more of saving face than saving you."

"He didn't know. He thought the threat would bring you to your senses."

"And if I had been bound? Going back into the blackout zone? Would he have come for me?"

"I don't know," River admitted. "But neither does he. And it eats at him."

He noted the shadows under her eyes, the weight she couldn't afford to lose slipping from her. "And you, _mei-mei_? Are you eating?"

She knew he was concerned - it rolled off him like a purple fog - but he was also changing the subject. She sighed. "Jayne makes me, but I'm not hungry." She squeezed her eyes tight shut. "All I can hear is her voice in my mind, calling me."

He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. "_Mei-mei_, you only have to ask. I've got more of that Heretofen on hand."

"Perhaps." But she shook her head. "Although it would dull me, and I need all my senses."

"But if it hurts -"

She reached up and placed a single slender digit on his lips. "I'll ask if I need it."

"You know, you really are a brat, aren't you?"

She smiled suddenly. "I work hard at it." She stepped back. "Have to go. Jayne is looking for me."

"Are you going to find him, or hide from him?" Simon asked, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

She swatted him on the pad of his arm. "That isn't fair."

"No, and I'm sorry." Only he wasn't really.

"He has food." Her nose wrinkled up, and the resemblance to her niece was striking.

"So hiding it is."

She hit him again, same place. "Boob."

"Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

"Maybe when you're old and grey." She flounced past him.

"Are we going to live that long?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"My job," she said, her face looking over her shoulder at him, her dark eyes full of mystery.

"And it's Jayne's to make sure you're able to do it," he pointed out. "Go and eat."

She stuck her tongue out at him, then scampered up the rest of the steps into the cargo bay.

Simon shook his head, wondering just when he'd passed responsibility for his sister on to that great hulking ex-mercenary.

On the stairs going up to the next level, just out of sight, Regan stood, allowing the tears to fall silently, the tray of tea she'd gone to make forgotten in her trembling hands.


	25. Chapter 25

As they approached Hera over the next two days, the tension began to mount. Life went on, of course, with Simon and his father spending time together, the young man telling carefully edited tales of their exploits until Gabriel professed he must be making these things up. Regan, never too far from her husband's side, found the women of Serenity visiting her every so often, bringing tea or, in Kaylee's case, the cookie tin. She knew why they were doing it, and was grateful, but found the odd moments with her daughter the most rewarding.

However, the stress levels became much higher after River's episode.

She'd been sitting in the cargo bay watching Jayne and Alex working out together, smiling slightly at the unlikely friendship that appeared to have grown up between the two men from opposite ends of the 'verse. Her sketchpad was on her knees, and she occasionally drew an image. Nothing much, just an impression of an arm, lifting a weight, or a hand grasping the pull-up rings. Neither man was speaking much, just a low comment every now and again to encourage or caution.

She let the voices wash over her, not even looking at the paper, her pencil moving without intervention of conscious thought, until she looked down at what she'd drawn.

Reaver. Worse. _Jayne_ as Reaver, skin peeled back from his cheeks above his beard, one eye marled and scarred, teeth sharpened to fine points. She screamed.

Jayne was immediately on his feet, hurrying across to her. "River?"

She lashed out at him, her fist catching his jaw and knocking him to the deck. Springing from the crate, she ran from him up the stairs towards the galley.

"River?" Freya was at the doorway, having heard the shriek, while Mal, Zoe and Hank were rushing down the bridge steps. "What is it?"

River glared at her, and she felt it like a physical force in her mind. All the colour fled from her face, and she staggered back against the wall.

"What's going on?" Mal demanded, coming up behind the young woman and attempting to grab her arm.

She was already gone, running through the galley towards the engine room where Kaylee was standing with a wrench in her hand, a look of fear plastered across her face. But River didn't attempt to enter, just sped down the stairs to the common area, and the infirmary.

Simon was coming out of the guest quarters, radiating concern, but she ignored him. Instead she half-fell across the threshold into the blue room and starting pulling drawers open.

"River, stop," he said firmly, following her and wrapping his arms around her.

She twisted somehow, and suddenly he was on his side on the floor, staring up at her as she grabbed the box of scalpels, tearing it open in her frenzy. Knives scattered, one coming to rest point down only an inch from Simon's hand. Not that he noticed. He was trying to stand, intent of taking the scalpel she was holding away from her.

"Have to get it out," she was muttering. "Take it away."

He swallowed, and began to say, "Eta kooram –"

"No! You ain't gonna use that!" Jayne yelled, suddenly half filling the infirmary and grabbing his wife, fingers wrapping around the blade and pushing it down. "Moonbrain, stop," he whispered in her ear, frantically trying to stop her hurting herself, ignoring the blood dripping down his wrist. "River."

She looked up at him, her eyes huge, terrified. "Jayne …"

"I'm here, Riv. Ain't going anywhere."

With a sob she let go of the scalpel, allowing him to toss it away to the corner, scattering fine drops of red as it fell. He gathered her up, holding her tightly to him.

"What the hell just happened?" Mal asked, his voice low.

"I think it was this," Alex said, holding out the sketchpad.

Mal took it. "_Cao_."

Hank looked over his shoulder and shuddered. "Hell, anyone'd have a fit seeing that."

"Sir, it's Jayne," Zoe murmured, taking the pad.

"Yeah. I know." Mal took a step towards River, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. "River, it's just a drawing."

She didn't answer, just clung to Jayne even harder.

"Mal –" the big man began.

"River." Mal took hold of her chin, pulling it around so he could look into her eyes. "_Xiao nu_. It's just a drawing. It can't hurt you. And it ain't gonna happen."

"What ain't?" Jayne asked. Zoe held it up. "Shit." He looked down at the woman in his arms. "Riv, Mal's right. It ain't gonna happen. If it was gonna, it would've by now, some of the things I've done. But I ain't ever gonna be that."

"Promise?" she said, almost too quietly for anyone to hear.

"Promise."

"Hurt you." She reached up to touch his face, a dark shadow already appearing where she'd hit him.

"Hell, girl, you coulda broken my jaw if'n you'd wanted," Jayne said, checking his teeth with his tongue. "That was only a love tap."

She stared into his eyes, then wrapped herself around him, so close it was difficult to tell where he ended and she began.

"Jayne, I need to look at your hand," Simon added quietly.

The big man shook his head. "I'm taking Riv back to our shuttle. If you wanna, you'd better come with."

Simon quickly gathered some supplies, following them out.

"Well, that was … exhilarating," Hank said, running his hand through his hair.

"Dear …" Zoe admonished.

"Just saying."

Mal took the sketchpad back and stared at it, feeling Freya at his side. "You okay, _ai ren_?"

She nodded. "River wasn't exactly practising that control of hers," she said, leaning against him and examining the drawing. "And in her mind, this wasn't just pencil on paper."

"I conjured that might be the case." He glanced at her. "Mara?"

"I think so." Freya touched the pad, her fingers barely skimming the lines. "She's testing River, seeing what she can do."

"Can't help feeling our young assassin ain't giving a good showing of herself."

"I don't know about that," Freya said, somewhat cryptically.

"Is this what they made of her?" Gabriel asked, standing with his arms around his wife, appalled at what he'd just seen. "Those … people?"

"She has bad days," Mal admitted. "Lot less now, since Miranda, and a whole lot less since Jayne. But they ain't so many."

"God," Gabriel said. "This is all my fault."

"I ain't gonna disagree with you on that point, but you had some help." Mal looked at the others. "Hank, you'd better get back to flying my boat. How long 'til we reach that black rock?"

"The Arachnids? About a day and a bit."

"The what?"

"It's what it's called. Apparently some surveyor or other thought the debris looked like baby spiders around a mother." The pilot shrugged. "Whatever he was on, I could do with some right now."

"I think we all could," Mal agreed, glancing towards the cargo bay door, his face thoughtful.

* * *

That evening, before everyone sat down to what was probably going to be a fairly subdued supper, Mal was supposedly cleaning his guns at the table in their bunk, but in reality was watching Freya wash her hair in the small sink. She'd taken her shirt off so she didn't get it wet, and her skin was almost glowing in the low light.

"Why don't you do it in the shower?" he asked, his eyes trailing a thin line of foam that was meandering down her neck as she poured a jugful of water over her head.

She turned enough so she could peer at him, blinking a little as shampoo got in her eyes. "We can't waste the water," she said succinctly. "Not with so many extra people on board. And I'm not showering at the moment anyway."

"Yeah, I noticed you were getting a little ripe," he joked.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I sponge. I'm clean enough," she replied and carried on rinsing.

He stood up. "Why don't you let me do that for you?" he suggested, standing behind her and taking the jug from her hands. "I can see where you can't."

"Okay." She rested on the unit, both hands bracing her bent arms. "Ready."

He smiled a little and poured water over her hair, pushing the suds through the dark strands. Here and there was a glint of silver, maybe one or two more than before they left the children, but he wasn't going to tell her. She sighed with pleasure, and he had to concentrate on his task and not on the tattoo showing brightly down her back. A couple more jugs and he straightened up. "You're done," he said, picking up the towel and rubbing her head.

"Tell me, did you ever think of doing this professionally?" she asked, her eyes closed.

"Yeah. Once upon a time." He laughed. "Although after I practised on one of the dogs at home, my Ma said I wasn't to go near scissors ever again."

She stood upright, taking the towel from him. "I wish I'd seen that."

"No, you don't. Poor thing looked like he'd been sheared."

Finishing drying, she picked up a brush. "Want to do this too?"

"Sure." He pulled the chair he'd been sitting in forward and gestured to it. "If the young lady would like to take a seat …"

Freya grinned and sat down. "I could get used to this."

"Oh, it's just a one time offer," Mal said, taking the brush from her and running it through her hair.

"So you give me a taste of this and then take it back?"

"Gotta leave 'em wanting more." He watched the hair flatten under his ministrations, then spring back up, studying every strand. "You know, I've been thinking …"

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes soft, loving. "Is that a good idea?"

"Probably not. But there's something I've realised I need to say to you."

"I love you too."

"No, I … well, yeah, I know that. But this … although it's kinda connected."

She moved around on the seat so she could rest her arm on the back of the chair, looking up into his face. "Mal, what is it?"

"Maybe it'd be better if you didn't love me so much."

"What?" She didn't look angry, at least not yet, just confused.

"Things the way they are. Things that might happen. Better if you didn't love me so much."

"What are you talking about?"

His blue eyes gazed at her. "Before. On Three Hills."

Freya stood up quickly, grabbing the brush from him and putting it on the shelf. "That's not … I thought you weren't going to bring that up."

"It happened, Frey. That ain't gonna go away. You tried to kill yourself."

She span on her heel and glared at him. "Because I thought you were dead. I thought you'd died and I'd never see you again."

"Zoe lost a husband and didn't try to die."

Her eyes widened a little. "She was there. She saw it happen. She knew. I didn't."

"So if I get shot in front of you, or knifed, or … anything else … that'll be okay?"

For a moment she didn't speak. Then suddenly her arm raised and she hit him, open-handed, on his cheek. The sound reverberated through the small cabin, and made her fingers ring.

He didn't touch it, although the heat was intense. "I can't lose you, Frey. And if anything happens to me … I need to know you're alive."

"And you think this is the best way of making sure?" She couldn't believe what he'd said, what she'd done, and didn't want to be in the same room with him. She grabbed her shirt and went to leave, but he wouldn't let her. Taking hold of her arm he turned her to face him. "Let go."

"No. You're gonna listen to me. It ain't often I put my foot down in this marriage, 'cause that ain't the way I think it should be, but … right now I am." He pulled her closer. "This thing we're going to, this battle … it's possible none of us may come out of it alive."

She swallowed hard. "I know."

"Or maybe just some of us will survive. The best fighters. Jayne, Zoe … you …"

"You're not going to die."

"I might."

"You won't!" She almost screamed the words into his face, not caring if the rest of the crew heard.

"Frey, if that happens, and you live, I'm terrified you'll try to kill yourself again, and succeed this time. The thought that you might die is destroying me."

Freya closed her eyes, but it was too late. Hot, fat tears escaped from under her lids and rolled down her cheeks. "I love you, Mal," she whispered. "I can't stop that. I won't."

"I know. And I love you so much I can't breathe sometimes when you're close to me. But that's the point. Frey, if it came down to it, I'd walk into hell with my head high, singing, if it meant you'd live. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes." She barely whispered.

"I need this, Frey. And it's not just because of Ethan and Jesse. I need to know you'll go on if I fall."

"Mal –"

"I _need_ this."

She stared into his blue eyes, seeing nothing but honesty there, and it reached through into her heart. Taking a deep breath, she spoke slowly. "I won't hide, Mal. I'll be there, right next to you, fighting those _hwoon dahns_ until there's none left. I won't crawl away and wait until it's over."

"I know it."

"But if you … if you fall, I'll …" She had to swallow to finish. "I'll take them out, all of them. Take them to pieces. Render them into their limbs and bloody intestines. They might kill me in the process. But I won't kill myself. If I survive and you don't, I won't take my own life." She watched his face, seeing each word biting into him like a Reaver, then the realisation of what she was saying blossomed.

"You mean that?" he asked, barely vocalising.

_I do_. She didn't use her voice, knowing that could lie so easily. Instead she let her meaning caress his mind, showing the truth. _Not because I won't want to, but because you need me to go on._

He reached for her, dragging her into his arms, embracing her so tightly there was nothing between them at all. "God, Frey …"

Her hands were on his back, feeling the muscles moving as he tried to get closer to her, then his lips met hers, and the intensity was bruising. He staggered back to the wall, pulling her with him and using it to slide down so she was in his lap, not breaking contact all the while.

After a long while they released each other enough to breathe, and Mal looked into her face, smoothing her hair away. "That's all I need, Frey," he said quietly.

"You know we none of us'll make it through this, don't you?" Her hands tightened in his shirt.

"Sure. Although Jayne's looking forward to saying _I told you so_." His mouth curved. "I have to believe we'll all live, Frey. If I don't, then they've won before we even start to fight."

"They're not going to win. Whatever happens, they're not going to win." She felt a laugh deep in his chest.

"You know that for a fact, do you?" he asked.

"I do."

"Then we're okay." He kissed her again, but this was softer, more tender as his tongue sketched her lips.

_I'm glad the kids are safe,_ she thought to him as her body responded.

_Me too. No matter what happens, they'll be okay_.

"So will we, Mal," Freya whispered into his mouth, and he knew she wasn't sure if she was telling the truth.

* * *

Next morning, at least according to ship's time, Mal watched the unchanging stars outside his Firefly's window. He and Freya had made up, and no-one had commented on the raised voices they must have heard.

"She forgave you," his shadow said, sitting in the co-pilot's seat and rolling Jayne's rainstick backwards and forwards.

"I know." He glanced at her. "Just want her to live, River."

"She's promised. Just … don't die to see if she keeps it."

"You think I'd do that?"

"I think you'll live to make sure she doesn't."

"And I think maybe you know me too well." He studied her profile as she in turn studied the carvings. "What about you? You okay now?"

"Better," she said, tilting the stick again and making the stones inside it rain on the roof. "I'm sorry."

He was surprised. "What for? It's not your fault. Although I do think it might be better if you stayed on board Serenity when we hit Hera."

She shook her head. "No."

"It'd be for your own good. And –"

"No," she repeated firmly. "She's goading me. Trying to unbalance me."

"Figure maybe she succeeded, and that's even more reason to stay behind."

"No. Because she forgets that I'm unbalanced already."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Not for her. Because now I'm angry too."

He raised his eyebrows. "So you think you're up to this fight?"

"I am."

"Only it wasn't that long ago you were ready to rip my head off 'cause I suggested we might have no choice but to end the girl."

"That was before. Before I touched her mind. I'll try to help her, but she's insane."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but … more'n you?"

"Oh, yes. Hers is natural insanity, exacerbated by being psychic." She turned to look at him, her eyes seeming to be infinite in their depth. "But I don't know that I'll be able to kill her. Doppler. Other me."

He understood. "No, River_._ Not you. And if you can't there's a whole ship full of folks that'll do it for you."

She gazed at him a moment longer, then nodded. "Thank you."

"That's what families are for,_ xiao nu_."

River sighed. "And you mustn't call me that."

"What? Why? Don't you like it no more?" Mal felt an odd sense of disappointment.

"I do," she assured him. "I love to hear you call me _daughter_. But my father doesn't."

Mal had to smile. "Ah. Well, I'll try to remember."

She turned back to the stars. "But I'd like you to forget not to, once in a while."

The smile turned to a grin. "You mean when we're alone and people ain't breathing down our necks?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "You got it." He leaned back. "How's it going with your folks?"

"Slowly. But at least Simon is –" She stopped, stiffening slightly.

"What? What is it?"

She uncurled from the chair, her eyes fixed out into the black. "Columbine is slowing."

Mal stared, then realised she was right. Quickly he ran his hands over the board, adjusting their trajectory so they wouldn't fly straight into the Vanguard but curve away slightly just in case. Matching the slowing speed, he lifted down the comlink. "Columbine, this is Serenity. What's going on over there?"

Dillon's voice, slightly tinny, filled the bridge. _"Our engines have failed, Mal. She's just given up on us. Breed's taking a look, but he's no engineer."_

"_Tzao gao._" Mal exchanged a look with River, then said, "Okay. I think we can dock, then Kaylee can come take a look. Just give me a few minutes to get Hank up here."

"_Thanks, Mal."_ Dillon sounded relieved.

Mal flicked off the com, then exhaled heavily. "How long, River? Until they hatch."

"It's close."

"That's what I thought."


	26. Chapter 26

Serenity's mechanic stood in Columbine's engine room, her trusty Autoline no. 4 wrench in her hand, and she shook her head.

"Kaylee, I ain't liking the look on your face," Mal admitted.

"Well, I ain't liking this piece of _fei-oo_." She looked almost apologetic as she spoke, as if it was hard for her to be uncomplimentary about any engine. But this time … "It's a Capisson 45," she explained. "And it don't look like they've made it much better than the 38 version."

"Are those the ones that …" He lifted his hand and mimed a ship crashing.

"That's the ones."

"Can you fix her?"

Kaylee pursed her lips. "If I had a week or so, and a lot more parts –"

"You got maybe a couple of hours, and nothing more'n what you can find around here."

She shook her head. "It's gonna take work, Cap'n. And that's before I get inside and take a look."

"Can you get her to limpin?" He stepped closer to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "We ain't that far from Hera now, but it could be the other side of the 'verse if I can't get there. I need to know now, since there's a decision to be made."

Alex shook his head. "I don't want to leave my ship here, Mal."

"I know that. But time's wasting, and if she can't make the trip, then I'm putting everyone on board Serenity and doing it alone." He looked back at Kaylee. "Well?"

She bit her lip. "Well, if it's just to Hera … yeah, I can do it. She won't go full speed, a'course, but fast enough to keep up with Serenity."

"Good. How long?"

"An hour? Hour'n a half?"

"Shiny. You need any help?"

"No, not really. Although Breed can stay and hold my hand if he likes." She smiled at Dillon's partner hanging in the doorway.

"I don't think I've ever had such a sweet request for my presence," the black-haired man said.

"Should I be worried?" Dillon asked, exchanging an indulgent look with his lover.

"Maybe," Kaylee said, grinning widely. "Need to see how he does with an engine 'fore I decide."

* * *

Kaylee was as good as her word. Eighty-seven minutes later Columbine managed to get going under her own power, albeit with reduced lighting and all non-essential equipment off-line. As she'd said to Mal before they'd uncoupled, "It ain't like she's actually dead, just losing power somewhere. Like she's bleeding."

"Lovely image, _xiao mei-mei_," he'd responded, grimacing slightly.

She'd giggled and ducked back inside Columbine's airlock.

"Are you sure you need to be on board her?" Mal called. "What if something breaks on my ship?"

"Ain't going that far, Cap'n," she replied, disappearing into the Vanguard. "Only takes a wave …"

Mal shook his head. "That girl enjoys playing around with other folk's equipment just a mite too much." Smiling to himself, he closed the doors, then punched the com with his thumb. "Hank, we're good to go."

"_Shiny. Detaching from Columbine now."_

There was an odd noise like metal tearing, and Mal made a mental note to check the external couplings next time they were planetside, then he felt his own ship power up. "Take it easy at first," he added. "Much as Kaylee's sure she can keep her going, I don't want to test it too much."

"_Easy it is."_

"Only not too slow."

There was a pause, then Hank's voice filtered through again. _"You wanna come up here and drive?"_

Mal hadn't commented, and things had been fine. Nothing broke on his boat, and Columbine had accelerated up to what Kaylee assured them was a safe speed, and in the bridge windows they could now see the remains of the moon the surveyors had labelled the Arachnids.

"You know, in a certain light, if you close one eye, you can see what those idiots meant," Hank said.

"I conjure you're right." Mal gazed at the debris. There was one very large, irregularly shaped piece, where veins of harder minerals had resisted the shearing forces and almost dangled like legs beneath. It was accompanied by several hundred fragments with more minerals shot through them, orbiting slowly, occasionally cannoning off each other.

"Very maternal," Hank added, shivering slightly.

"Never did care much for spiders," Mal admitted. "We had some big ones, back on Shadow. Bodies the size of my fist." He glanced down at his hand, then thrust it into his pocket. "Lived in the barn mostly. Harmless, but that ain't exactly a comfort when you come face to face with one when you're searching for dry feed."

"I doubt they're there any more, Mal."

"Yeah, but scorching the place was a pretty drastic form of pest control." He studied the cluster. "Can you get close enough to the main rock without damaging us?"

The pilot nodded. "There's a route round the backside. Tight, certainly for Columbine, but we can do it."

"There's no point in taking Alex's ship in. I'm figuring there ain't no atmo."

"Nope. Not even a breath of air."

"Then Jayne and me'll wear suits. Shouldn't take us too long to get it planted."

"You'll have to use the boosters." Hank shook his head. "Sorry, but there's no place to land without ripping Serenity's belly open."

"Rather that didn't happen." He reached up and pressed the button to talk shipwide. "Jayne, Zoe … need you in the cargo bay. Time we made ourselves legal again. So to speak."

* * *

The Firefly hung as close as possible to the main Arachnid, but it still meant having to manhandle the crates down to the surface. As Jayne did the lifting, Mal secured them by firing pitons into the rock and attaching ropes, criss-crossing them over the equipment. There was a small amount of gravity, but not enough to stop the crates flying off if one of the smaller orbiting 'spiders' decided to slam into the ground.

As Jayne tied the largest into place, Mal looked out, into the black, and marvelled at Hank's skill. He'd managed to negotiate a path that looked barely wide enough for a shuttle, let alone a transport ship, and done it without scratching the paint. Wash couldn't have done better. Columbine hung further out, her greater size making her appear closer than she was, shining and glossy, but he knew he'd never exchange his Firefly, not even for something as grand as Alex's ship.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and half turned.

"Mal, if you're gonna get space happy, I'm gonna have to drag your sorry ass back to Serenity," Jayne warned. "Only I ain't intending to be gentle about it."

"Hmn. 'Gentle' and 'Jayne' in the same sentence. Not sure I've ever heard that before." Mal pretended to think deeply, then added, "And you threaten me, you're walking to Hera."

"You'd miss me."

"Nah, I know I could get Hank to make sure he didn't."

The suit radio crackled. "If you two've finished playing …"

"She sound pissed to you?" Mal asked conversationally.

"Always does," Jayne admitted. He pushed off from the rock and sailed back towards Serenity's open cargo bay doors where Zoe was standing, the starlight glinting off her faceplate, the last set of crates at her feet.

* * *

It didn't take long to secure the final boxes, both men tugging once more on the ropes to make sure they weren't likely to come adrift. As they straightened up, though, Mal heard Freya's voice, urgent in his head.

_Mal._

_Frey?_ He wondered why she wasn't using the com as usual.

_Alliance. Coming in hot and fast._

_How long?_ He glanced at Jayne, seeing he was getting the same message from River.

_Ten minutes. Maybe twelve._

"Gorramit." He considered the options for about five seconds, then spoke aloud so Jayne could hear over the suit com. "Frey, get Serenity moving. Jayne's coming back. You give me a lift, I'll get to Columbine, get them going too. Unless you can talk to Kaylee or –"

_She's working on the engine. Even if they'd believe it was me, I can't get through to any of them. It's like … interference._

"Mara Tam."

"Sir?" This was Zoe, wondering who he was having this one sided conversation with.

_Probably. I can only talk to you, zhang fu._

"Okay. We'll be back on board in a split."

_Be careful._

"Ain't I always?" He had to smile as the impression of the look he knew she was giving him came across loud and clear.

On Serenity's bridge, Alex was confused. "Frey, sorry if I'm being obtuse here, but why didn't you use the normal com?"

"The signal gets piggybacked off the Cortex," she explained quickly. "The Feds might pick it up. Even if they can't read it, it's a pretty damn big giveaway there's someone out here."

"Shouldn't we be?"

She smiled, very slightly. "This close in to a black rock, they're going to be suspicious. It's in their nature. Better we hide, keep the Arachnids between us, and if they don't know we're here, they can't look for us. Or find the goods."

Alex felt his heart rate speed up. "Do we have time?"

"Just. If we move now."

As if by magic Jayne's voice filled the bridge. _"Hank, we're on. Get moving."_

The pilot didn't even answer, just eased open the power and began manoeuvring back through the cluster.

River had been studying the screen. "Here," she said, laying a slim finger on the plexiglass to indicate an area the other side of the debris field. "Big enough for us both."

Hank glanced over. "Looks good."

"Will they be able to see us? Surely their sensors have picked us up by now." Alex watched as the last of the rocks slipped from view and they got closer to Columbine.

"Not unless they're looking through a window," Hank said, slowing more. "That's the thing about the Alliance," he added. "They rely totally on their instruments instead of good, old-fashioned eyesight." He nodded outside. "There's enough metallic minerals in these things to throw their sensors, so we should just look like another couple of hunks of debris."

"_Hank, Mal's gone." _Zoe's voice on the ship's com. _"Time to hide."_

"Copy that."

* * *

Mal didn't seem to be moving, but Columbine was coming up towards him. Twisting just enough, he turned, letting his feet touch down first, clamping to the metal hull with a thud that reverberated up his legs. Whether through luck or judgement, he was barely five yards from the hatch, and even as he watched it slid open.

Hurrying as much as wearing a bulky space suit in vacuum would allow, he stepped inside, reorienting himself so as soon as the internal gravity came on he'd be the right way up. The door closed, there was a hiss of air that pressed against him, and the light turned green.

Immediately the inner door opened.

Breed was waiting, and helped him remove his helmet. "We saw you coming across. What's going on?"

"Alliance. Heading our way."

Breed's eyes widened. "Are we running?"

"They're faster than us. Tell Dillon to follow Serenity. We're going to hide."

The older man nodded, running to the internal com.

* * *

"Are they following?" Freya asked, her attention fixed on the sensors. The Alliance were getting too close for comfort.

"Powering up now," Hank said. "Should just be a moment, then –"

There was a flash of light that filled the small bridge, disappearing almost as soon as it had registered.

"What the hell was that?" Freya said, her head whipping up.

* * *

Columbine lurched, throwing Mal and Breed to the floor. There was a distant whining sound, then silence, the lights flickering once before giving way to pitch black. Then the emergency system kicked in, giving everything an odd glow.

Mal staggered to his feet. "What the hell was that?"

_Mal!_ Freya, her mental voice urgent, scared.

He watched as Breed clambered to his feet, holding out a hand to help. _It's okay, Frey. We're alive. Can't say the same for Columbine, though._

Kaylee ran somewhat unsteadily into the Vanguard's small bay, rubbing at a graze on her forehead. "You okay?" she asked.

"Oh, shiny." He struggled out of the suit. "What happened?"

"Fuel flare, Cap'n. Told you she was bleeding power, only it looks like we're leaking fuel too. It ignited when we tried to get her moving. Lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Could've taken us up too, if it had hit something vital."

"How long to get us going?" Mal asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"We're not. We're dead in the water 'til she cools, and I can get in, stop the leak."

_Mal, we're coming back for you._

"No." He spoke and thought the word, emphasising it. "You got too many folks on board the Alliance want. Stay safe. Hide, like we planned."

_Mal –_

"Gorramit, woman, will you do what I say for once?"

There was nothing for a long moment, and he wondered if she was going to speak to him ever again. Then … _Yes, Mal._

He blinked hard. "Uh ... good."

Dillon's voice suddenly rang through the Vanguard. _"In case anyone is interested, we've just been hailed by the ASV Iolanthe. They want us to heave to and prepare to be boarded."_

Mal sighed dramatically, wishing he was not only wearing his gun, but his brown coat too. He always felt better when dealing with the Alliance if he were properly dressed.

* * *

Commander Ubermann leaned over the young ensign's shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir. Only the one vessel."

"You said you thought there were two of them."

"I ..." He swallowed hard, trying not to be intimidated. "It's the Arachnids, sir. They contain some kind of element that's bouncing our signal around. I think the other contact must have been some kind of ... echo, sir."

Ubermann stood upright. "Are they responding to our hails?"

"No, sir."

"Then try again. And tell them that if they don't do as requested I shall blow them out of –"

"Sir." It was the communication officer. "_We're_ being hailed."

Ubermann signalled for it to be put onto speaker. "This is the ASV Iolanthe. Prepare to be boarded."

A man's voice, with a border accent, came through loud and clear. _"Iolanthe? This is the private vessel Columbine. Well, we'd just about given up hope on help arriving, and here you are."_

"Help?"

"_We're in something of a pickle, you might say. Engine's down, and my mechanic's having the devil's own time trying to get her going again."_

"Is that so?"

"_Surely is."_ They could almost hear his grin. _"Course, I can understand if an important vessel such as yourselves has more important things to do, but we could surely do with a tow."_

"Stand by." Ubermann nodded towards the com officer and there was a click. He looked across at Lieutenant Bradshaw. "Well?"

The young man was perusing the scans they'd taken. "Her engine is certainly off-line, sir, and there's evidence of a fuel leak."

"Is she likely to blow up on us?"

"No, sir."

Exhaling heavily, Ubermann signalled for the com to be reactivated. "Columbine, hold position. We'll continue this discussion face to face."

* * *

On the Vanguard's bridge, Dillon turned to stare at Mal. "What was all that about?"

"They know we're hurting, and if we don't ask for help it's just going to make them even more suspicious. Better they come aboard, see we've got nothing to hide, then be on their merry."

"Do we have time for this?" Breed asked.

"Ain't got the choice at the moment." Mal shook his head. "When they take a look around, see there's nothing to find, we can –" He stopped, noting the look on the other man's face. "What? Dillon, what?"

* * *

"There's what?" Freya span to face Alex.

"I didn't know what it was," he admitted. "I found it in the bay, before we landed on Whitefall, and Dillon explained."

"You're telling me there's –"

"Not much."

"There doesn't have to be!" She stared at him. "Don't you realise it's illegal to have it? If the Alliance find it, if they see even a hint of it ..." She couldn't go on.

Zoe stepped forward. "Alex, is it still in the bay?"

Alex shook his head. "No. He moved it so Patience couldn't get her hands on it."

"Is it secure?"

"I don't know." He looked unhappy and gazed at his sister. "Look, I didn't know he'd brought it with him."

Freya took a deep breath. "It's not your fault. I know that. But ..."

"Is it really that bad? I mean, it's just an explosive. That's all V59 is. Isn't it?"

For a long moment all the other people on the bridge saw, in their mind's eyes, an image of the Alliance's attempt to build an AI ship, and the devastating detonation that had occurred when just three barrels had been used to destroy it. Nothing left but ash ...

"That's a bit like saying Reavers enjoy getting out and meeting people," Hank explained, his hands tight on the control yoke.

"So what do we do?" Alex asked, looking from the pilot to Freya and Zoe.

"Nothing. What we were told to," Freya said bitterly. "Stay hidden."

"And Mal? Kaylee? The others?"

"We stay put and hope for the best." _And pray_, she added silently.


	27. Chapter 27

The airlock door opened, and half a dozen soldiers piled through, their officer following. As Mal watched the Feds take up position around them, he could feel Kaylee trembling a little at his side. He put his arm around her briefly, giving her the support she needed. "Just hormones, _xiao mei-mei_," he murmured, and was gratified to see her nod.

The officer pulled his jacket into place and eyed each one of them, although his glance skimmed over Kaylee. "I'm Commander Ubermann," he said finally, slapping his hands together behind his back. "According to the ship's registry, the owner of this vessel is Alexander Ivan Rostov, resident of Osiris. Which of you is this gentleman?"

Dillon stepped forward. "None of us, actually," he admitted. "But my name's Dillon Malfrey. This ship belongs to a friend of mine, Alex Rostov. He loaned her to us so we could visit Hera." He smiled a little. "Of course, I doubt he thought we'd break down, but I have to say I'm glad that you stopped to help us."

"I'm sure you are." Ubermann raised on eyebrow very slightly. "But I'm sure you understand if I don't just take your word for it, Mr Malfrey. Do you have any proof of this loan?"

"I didn't know I had to have."

"So you have nothing to show that you haven't, in fact, stolen this vessel? Perhaps even killed the crew and the owner."

Kaylee bristled, but Mal touched her hand and she subsided.

Dillon didn't appear to have noticed. "Do you really think a man in my position would do that? And if you need references, I have a number of high-ranking friends in the Persephone legislature who would be more than willing to vouch for me." There was an edge to his voice - barely detectable, but there, nevertheless, even though it was hardly more than the hint of a threat.

"Really." Ubermann shook his head slightly. "And just why were you going to Hera?"

Breed spoke up. "We're going to see the Serenity Monument."

Ubermann smiled. "Where the Independents were finally put down," he said. "Any particular reason?"

"Does there have to be?" Dillon asked. "It's on all the tourist maps."

"But at this time, with all of these suggestions of Reavers moving in …"

"Ain't the great Alliance always held that they don't exist?" Mal put in. "That they're just something made up to scare children?"

Ubermann redirected his attention. "And you are?"

Mal hitched his thumbs into his suspenders. "Reynolds. Malcolm Reynolds. I'm flying this boat for these good people."

"Mr Reynolds." Ubermann tapped his fingers against his thigh. "You are, of course, quite right. Reavers don't exist. Pirates, on the other hand, do, and I'm surprised a vessel such as this hasn't had a run-in with them."

"Nope." Mal shook his head. "Not seen hide nor hair of either of 'em."

"Really." Ubermann studied them closely. "And if I search this ship, I won't find anything … untoward?"

Dillon drew himself up. "Search away. We have nothing to hide."

"Oh, I intend to." He rubbed his hands together. "And we shall be continuing this very interesting conversation on board my ship."

"Now look here -"

Ubermann gave up the last of his patience. "No. You look. You're in a very under-travelled area of space, on board a ship you admit you don't own, and I for one don't believe you."

"I can assure you -"

"And I can assure you I intend getting to the truth behind this. And at the very least, confirm you are who you say you are."

"Oh, we are," Dillon said.

Kaylee took a tentative pace forward. "Sir? If'n it's all the same to you, I need to get on with fixing this boat, 'cause she ain't going nowhere without it."

Ubermann's lip curled at the sound of the Rim accent, and he looked her up and down. "You're an engineer?"

"A mechanic. And I'd kinda like to get on with my job."

"If I decide to impound your ship, you won't need to worry about that."

"And if you decide to impound her, you're still gonna have to fix her, so you might as well've done that first."

He glared at her, but she wasn't about to back down. "Very well." He pointed to one of the soldiers. "You, stay with her. Don't let her out of your sight."

"Yes sir."

"And if I need some parts?" the young woman continued. "Can't know exactly what went wrong 'til I've crawled inside her."

Ubermann suppressed a sigh. "Within reason."

"So I can't ask for a new compression coil?"

"Kaylee." This was Mal.

"Just saying."

"Tell the soldier what you need. If we have it available, you can use it." Ubermann was anxious to get back aboard Iolanthe. "Bring the rest of them," he ordered, turning on his heel and heading back for the airlock but pulled up short. "Captain Bennett."

Greg Bennett stood in the way, his hands either side of the door. "Okay, enough is enough."

This time the sigh wouldn't be stopped. "Captain Bennett, you have to go back to your quarters."

"No. First you refuse to let me and my crew back onto Goliath, then you drag us halfway across the galaxy, and now you're interfering with more honest people. Just where do you get off having the right to do this?"

"Right?" Ubermann was suddenly in his face. "I have the right of the Alliance behind me, to keep space free from scum of all kinds. And right now it wouldn't surprise me to find out these _honest_ people of yours aren't part of the pirate ring we're chasing."

Bennett lost control of his temper. "Gorramit, I told you, it wasn't pirates!"

"No, of course, it was Reavers. Who left survivors to tell the tale." He shook his head. "Let me get on with my job." He pushed past the irate captain. "Bring them," he ordered.

* * *

"Frey?" Simon was gripping the back of the pilot's chair, his fingers digging into the covering.

"She's alright," Freya said from the other seat, staring out into the black, seeing but not watching the slowly moving field of debris. She was concentrating on maintaining her link with Mal. "They're going to let her repair Columbine."

"I didn't mean that."

She turned to look at him. "She's not feeling sick. She's not in pain. If anything, she's looking forward to getting to grips with the engine."

Simon shook his head. "That wife of mine is going to make me go grey," he muttered, but his hold on the seat didn't loosen.

* * *

Ubermann led the way deeper into Iolanthe, until Mal began to wonder if he'd be able to find his way back without a map. This scout vessel was nowhere near as big as the interplanetary ships, but it was big enough.

_I'll help_, he heard Freya in his mind, and he had to suppress a smile. Of course she was still with him.

_Thanks._

_I still say we should have come back for you._

_And got bound. Not having that happen, ai ren. You just sit tight. We'll be on our merry sooner'n you can blink._

_Is that a promise?_

_It is._

_Oh, good._

He could hear the ironic tone behind the thoughts, and this time it was harder not to let his lips lift.

They turned a corner, and Dillon moved closer. "You should have hidden like I said," he said quietly, barely vocalising.

Mal shook his head slightly. "And they were gonna search, one way or another. If they'd found me, then what? That really would've put the cat among the pigeons, wouldn't it?"

"Don't tell me. One of Freya's sayings?"

"Nope. This one was my Ma's. And she had another I've always found worth remembering. Don't stir up a hornet's nest 'less you have to."

"I don't recall ever hearing that one before."

"Obviously never done it at the height of summer when the creek's almost dried."

"What?"

"Least there's no active warrants out on me at the moment," Mal said, ignoring the other man's confusion. "I'd say that puts us in an advantageous position."

"You have an odd way of looking on the bright side," Dillon said.

"Better than thinking it's all going to go to hell before we even hit Hera." He dropped his voice even lower. "Got more'n enough of that waiting for us as it is."

"I have the terrible feeling you're right."

Ubermann stopped outside a door. "Take the other men down to the holding cell. Mr Reynolds can wait in here until I'm ready."

"Shiny." Mal smiled tightly as he felt the barrel of a rifle press none too gently into the small of his back to urge him into the interrogation room.

* * *

It wasn't as bad as she'd thought. If anything, the fuel flare had shown where the damage was, and once the area was cool enough to climb into, Kaylee had found the trouble in a matter of minutes. Not that she let on to the soldier still keeping her company.

"C'n you pass me that micro-welder?" she asked, pointing to a piece of equipment just out of reach.

The soldier peered into the deep recess where Kaylee was working, and gripped his rifle more securely. "I don't know that I should."

"Just need a hand, is all. And, truth is, if I let go of this it'll spray us both, and that won't be good."

He glanced over his shoulder, almost as if he was making sure no-one could see him assisting this possible ne'er-do-well, then picked it up. "Here," he said, holding it out.

"No, you're gonna have to come inside and give it to me." She grinned. "And don't worry. I ain't gonna bite."

He looked over his shoulder once more, then, muttering under his breath, he propped his rifle against the engine housing and crawled into the space.

She smiled widely at him. "Thanks." She took the welder and got into position. "Here. Hold this."

* * *

"Is there nothing I can do?" Gabriel said, rubbing his hands over and around themselves as if he was cold. "I used to be a man of some influence in society."

Regan slipped her arm through his. "But not for some time, dear," she said softly. "Not really since Simon got River out of the Academy."

"No, I suppose not," he conceded sadly.

"What do you mean?" Simon leaned forward. "What effect could it possibly have had on you?"

"Oh, my dear." Regan almost laughed. "Do you have any idea what having two fugitives in the family does? We suddenly found our friends didn't return our waves, and regular invitations to events dried to almost nothing."

"I'm sorry we put a crimp in your social life."

Gabriel couldn't take the cold tone, not after they'd made such progress. "No, Simon, that's not it at all. Your mother and I couldn't have cared less about not going to dinner or the opera. If anything, it proved just who our friends really were. It was much more that we found it impossible to talk to people who might have been able to help us find out where you'd gone. People who felt they had too much to lose."

"And if you had found us? What would you have done?"

Gabriel looked at Regan for help, and it was she who said, "Honestly, we don't know. It wasn't until later, until Andrew insisted you were right, that we began to believe what you'd been saying."

"Then you'd probably have sent her back."

"Yes."

Hank, in the pilot's chair, reached for Zoe's hand, feeling it slip into his as he waited for Simon's response. At the back of the bridge, Jayne tightened his arm around River's waist, while Alex held his breath. Only Freya, sitting in the co-pilot's seat, didn't seem to be taking much notice as she stared out of the bridge windows and concentrated on keeping contact with Mal, but even she was listening.

Simon finally stirred. "Then … it's good that you didn't find us." He looked into Gabriel's face. "It must have made things difficult for you."

Gabriel swallowed painfully. "It wasn't easy. But we had no idea what your sister was going through, and we know now that was worse."

"Yes."

The two Tams looked at each other, and for once there was understanding between them. Regan squeezed her husband's arm.

* * *

It could have been ten minutes or as much as half an hour sitting in the interrogation room, waiting for Ubermann. There was no clock, and even though he'd tried to strike up something of a dialogue with the two soldiers keeping him under watch, Mal hadn't managed to get one word out of them. Eventually he just sat, seemingly staring into nothing, but in fact having a deep and meaningful conversation with his wife.

In fact, when Ubermann finally appeared, he was almost annoyed at being interrupted. Not that the Alliance Commander said anything. He merely paced the room, reading from a hard file.

Mal sighed, unable to help bringing to mind a previous time he'd been in just such a position. That time they'd come across a ship that had been hit by Reavers, taken a survivor on board then had the misfortune to be -

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds." Ubermann sat down in the chair opposite, placing the file dead centre on the table in front of him. "The hero of Serenity Valley."

Mal shook his head. "I ain't a hero. Battle like that, definition of a hero is someone who didn't die."

"Appropriate that you're going to show your friends, though. Although I'm somewhat surprised you'd want to go back."

"Got to lay my demons to rest."

"It's taken you a while."

"Lotta other demons got in the way first."

"Yes, I should imagine." Ubermann tapped the file. "You've been bound several times, for various offences."

"And not one of 'em resulted in anything," Mal pointed out.

"True. You do seem to have quite the lucky streak."

"Maybe I'm just a law-abiding member of society."

Ubermann pursed his lips. "Of course."

"And nothing to prove otherwise."

The Fed leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped across his stomach. "So where's your vessel? We have a note that you run a Firefly-class transport."

"She's in dock at the moment," Mal said, lying easily. "Got a few things need fixing, and didn't have the cash to hand, so I took this job to pay to get her back up and running."

"And where, exactly, is this dock?"

Mal allowed his eyes to narrow slightly. "Why would you be interested?"

* * *

Kaylee wiped the excess sealant from around the valve, then glanced over her shoulder. "My name's Kaylee. What's yours?"

"I don't think I should be -"

"Just asking your name. Just so's I know what to call you, instead of _hey you_." She smiled at him again. 'Sides, you look awful young to be a pur … a soldier."

"I'm twenty-two!"

"Oh, then I apologise."

"It's okay. I always did look younger than I am. It's partly why I joined up, so I could …" He stopped, and a red tide crossed his face.

"So you could wear the uniform?" Kaylee supplied, tightening the connection. "I'm sure you get lots of girls 'cause of it."

"A few," he admitted. "And it's Brendan. My name."

"Hiya, Brendan."

"Hi." He waved a hand slightly, then turned pink again.

"So where're you from?" Beyond them she could see soldiers still searching the ship.

"Me? Oh, a place no-one's ever heard of."

"Try me."

Brendan glanced over his shoulder. "Place called Jangyin."

Kaylee sat up. "Ooh, I do know it! Friend of mine's son lives there."

"Really?"

"Went to his wedding a while back."

"I couldn't wait to get away," Brendan admitted.

"Nothing wrong with that either," Kaylee said stoutly. "Needed to see the black myself." She crawled past him and stood up, wiping her hands down her coveralls.

"All done?"

"Nearly. I just need one more part."

* * *

"We've been tracking pirates, as I said," Ubermann explained, his lips curving. "We lost their engine signature a little while back, but then we got word of a New Browncoat base on Hera. And just as we're getting close, here you are. A famous Independent."

Mal shook his head. "I'm just a transport captain doing a job of work. Wouldn't know one of these New Browncoats if they up and bit me."

"But you're not denying you've heard of them."

"That'd be a mite stupid of me, don't you think? In my line of work, I hear a lot of stuff. 'Bout revolution and rebellion. Hell, even heard me about a new kind of weapon that's gonna save the Alliance, but I don't put much credence in that."

Ubermann sat up. "New weapon?"

Mal shrugged. "I've been hearing about stuff like that for years, since the end of the war. It's got to the point where I don't really take it in any more."

"And you think that is going to persuade me you're not interested in overthrowing the Alliance."

"You know, truth is, I've never been interested in that. Just making sure me and mine are allowed to go on our own way, without undue interference. It's called freedom, in case you ain't heard of it."

"And what about civilisation?" Ubermann asked. "Are you saying you'd prefer to do without all the technological advances? The medical breakthroughs?"

"Not saying that at all. But I don't see that it means the Alliance can justify a stranglehold on us, just 'cause they decide we need 'civilising'."

* * *

"I don't think we should be here," Brendan said, worry evident in his voice.

They'd hurried through the lower levels of the scout ship to Iolanthe's engine room, and Kaylee's eyes had lit up at the equipment laid out in front of her.

She turned on the young man. "Why not? Your cap'n said I could use whatever I could find."

"That's not quite how he put it."

"It's what he meant. And I ain't gonna be taking stuff I shouldn't." She picked up a wrench and slid it into the long pocket on the leg of her coveralls then grinned at him.

* * *

"And what's wrong with civilisation?" Ubermann asked, aware he was being drawn into an argument and away from the point of the interrogation, but content for the moment to allow this man the semblance of control.

"Nothing. If the folks out here want it. But who says they do?"

"Of course they do."

"You asked 'em?" Mal placed his hands palm down on the table. "How long you been out here, Commander? I'm just curious. How long have you been patrolling these border planets?"

"Six months."

"I've been out here a mite longer. And I'm here to tell you, out here at the back of nowhere, all people want is a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and some way to keep warm. Anything else is extras, luxuries. If they can keep their kids from dying, that's a bonus. Hell, I've seen whole towns dead or dying 'cause there ain't no rain to irrigate the crops, no food to feed hungry mouths, so nothing else to do but lay down and die. And I don't see the Alliance coming to the rescue."

"You don't have much respect for the Alliance, do you?"

"I have none at all. You can't make people behave: it ain't in their nature. People ain't changed in a thousand years – civilization's just a word." He leaned forward. "You talk about Reavers and say they don't exist. Well, I've seen 'em, close up, closer than you are to me, and I can tell you that they're real. Except they wouldn't be plaguing us if the almighty gorram Alliance weren't trying to civilise everyone, and they ain't even attempting to do anything about the problem."

"You're talking about the Miranda broadwave. That was merely propaganda, a fiction put together by -"

"Fiction?" Mal laughed, but there was no humour in it. "You're lucky, but that kinda luck ain't gonna last. You'll come across a moon hit by 'em, or a town, a homestead. Maybe you'll be real unlucky and come across one of their boats taking down a ship, and you'll try and intervene. That happens, and you survive, you come find me, and you tell me what civilization means."

* * *

"You know, it's nice to see an engine that's so clean," Kaylee said, leaning over the housing. "Most of the ones I've worked on make you need a shower just by looking at 'em."

Brendan jumped as he heard a noise. "Look, I think we'd better be getting back."

She grinned at him. "Sure. No problem. I got what I need. Only I think you're gonna have to lead the way, 'cause I ain't sure I remember all the twists and turns."

The young man smiled at her, more relaxed now they were leaving. "It's easy. Just follow me."

"Weren't thinking of doing anything else." She hefted the part in her hands. "After you."

They walked out of the engine room, and in the shadows below the main coupling monitor a small palm-size device lurked, waiting.

* * *

There was silence for a long moment as both men stared at each other. It was only broken by the door opening and a junior officer entering.

"Yes?" Ubermann said sharply. "What is it?"

"Our long range sensors have picked up a number of vessels heading this way, sir."

Ubermann looked up. "A fleet?"

"No, sir. They appear to be coming from different directions, but …"

"But what?"

The lieutenant glanced at Mal, but said, "None of them appear to have proper containment on their core systems, sir. Even at this range we're picking up high levels of radioactivity."

Ubermann stared at him, then was on his feet in a moment and was out of the door, his officer following him.

Mal sat back, air escaping his lungs in a long, drawn-out sigh. He watched the two guards exchange looks. "Well, well," he said, shaking his head a little. "Speak of the devil."


	28. Chapter 28

"You know, I'm sure your Commander intended to tell you to let me loose," Mal said conversationally. "If he's having to chase Reavers, there's no way he wants Columbine hanging onto his skirt tails."

One of the guards gestured with his rifle. "He said no such thing. And you just … sit still."

"Hey, I wasn't going nowhere. Although I'd kinda like to get back to my boat 'fore everyone gets eaten."

"There's no such thing as Reavers." Nevertheless, the soldiers had both paled.

"Yeah, right. You keep telling yourself that. It'll make it less painful when they're chewing on your insides." He knew he shouldn't take pleasure in their discomfort, that there was a long name for such a thing (and that River would not only know the word but could spell it for him if he asked), but his inner captain had sneaked out to play a little.

There was the distinct sound of a safety being disengaged. "You just keep quiet."

Mal held up his hands and half-smiled. "No problem."

* * *

"I can't tell if he's right or not," Hank said, disgusted with his inability to confirm or deny anything that Freya had picked from Mal's mind. "Our sensors just don't have the range."

"I can feel them," River said softly. "Being called. Invited."

Simon turned to look at her. "You mean Mara's …" He stopped, feeling a tremble through his body before looking at Hank. "How long?"

"If they're outside our sensor range, maybe … an hour. It depends on how fast they're travelling."

"Not fast. Fighting it, but unable to break the call." River shuddered. "She's … content."

"Riv, maybe you'd better be thinking of that stuff your bro suggested," Jayne said, holding her to him.

"No. No time. I need to be focused, and I can't if my mind is blunted." She pulled free. "I have work to do," she said, taking to her heels and running towards the galley.

"Jayne." Freya didn't need to say anything else.

"Not lettin' her outta my sight," the big man said, already following his wife.

Freya exhaled slowly, staring out into the black. "Mal," she murmured, more a sigh than a vocalisation. "We don't have time for this …"

* * *

"So ain't there something else you ever wanted to be?" Kaylee asked, watching Brendan from the corner of her eye.

"There wasn't really much of a choice," the young man admitted. "Pretty much join up for the Alliance or get into stealing, and my Pa'd never let me do that. So I joined up."

"He must be proud of you." She tweaked something, just for show.

"I guess. He –" The com unit on his belt buzzed.

* * *

The door to the interrogation room opened, and the guards stood to attention, but it wasn't Ubermann. Another man stood in the frame, one Mal recognised from earlier.

"Captain Bennett." The first guard shook his head. "You shouldn't be in here."

"Oh?" Bennett moved into the room, the door sliding to behind him. "Why's that?"

"No-one should be interacting with our prisoner without express permission of –"

"Prisoner?" Bennett shot Mal a look. "Has he been bound, then?"

"Well, no, not yet, but –"

"Then there's no reason why I shouldn't pass the time of day with another transport captain." He smiled. "Is there?"

"I –" The guard didn't get another word out as Bennett patted him on the arm. He jerked, his whole body twitching, and slid to the floor, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping like a fish denied water from the small tazer Bennett had palmed. Bennett grabbed his rifle as he fell, and before the other guard could do more than blink in confusion he swung the weapon at his head, and the soldier joined his partner on the deck.

Mal hadn't moved. "That was … interesting," he said.

Bennett dropped the rifle. "Come on. You need to go, now."

"Now that I ain't grateful, but … why?"

"There's Reavers coming, and if they see an Alliance vessel they're going to attack. As least on board your own vessel you might have a chance." Bennett opened the door and peering out. "You know, we don't exactly have time to debate this."

"How do I know it ain't a trap?" Mal asked, rising slowly to his feet. "That outside that door there ain't half a dozen purplebellies just aching to riddle me with holes?"

Bennett sighed in frustration. "My uncle, before the war, had an old Lancaster transport. One of his crew was a young woman, a teenager really. Name of Freya."

Mal's lips twitched. "Did this uncle of yours have a big drooly dog?"

"Samson, yeah. Lived under the kitchen table." Bennett smiled briefly. "I heard tell she got married to a Malcolm Reynolds."

"That would be right." Mal joined him at the doorway. "So this is a rescue?"

"You could say that. I'm just sorry I couldn't wait until your ship's repaired, but –"

"She's ready to go."

Bennett looked at him sharply. "How would you know that?"

"Take my word for it."

Above them the loudspeaker sprang into life. _"All crew to battle stations. All crew to battle stations. Prepare for emergency disengage."_

Mal felt his heart lurch. "Kaylee."

"We've a couple of minutes," Bennett said, stepping into the corridor. "Let's get your men."

* * *

"_All crew to battle stations. All crew to battle stations. Prepare for emergency disengage."_

Kaylee straightened up. "What in the 'verse -"

Brendan grabbed his rifle. "Come on," he said, taking her arm.

She pulled away. "No. Not 'til I know what's going on."

"We have to evacuate this ship." Brendan could see the other soldiers abandoning their search and hurrying back towards the airlock. "Come _on_."

"Why?"

He grabbed her arm again. "Now, Kaylee! Or we'll both be breathing space!"

* * *

No-one took any notice of another two men running hard down the corridors, their pounding feet beating time with the continued com announcement. They were all too busy getting to their predetermined posts, and it was barely an unmolested two minutes before Bennett slid to a halt. "Here," he said, inputting a code onto the pad.

"They let you have that?" Mal asked.

"I've been on this boat against my will for what seems like forever," the other man said. "I made sure I found out."

The door opened onto a small cell.

"Time to go," Mal called.

Dillon and Breed stepped out.

"I'm guessing we're in it up to our necks," the older man said, looking up at the still squawking loudspeakers.

Mal nodded. "Reavers."

"_Cao_."

"Come on," Bennett urged, heading back the way they'd arrived.

* * *

"Hurry," Freya whispered. "Please, hurry."

* * *

Columbine's bay was empty but for Kaylee and Brendan, and she wasn't going anywhere.

"I ain't gonna let you just scupper her," she was saying, pulling back on the grip he had on her arm.

Brendan continued to drag her towards the airlock. "Don't be a _baichi_."

"No!" She managed to rip her arm free, hearing the fabric of her coverall tear. "I ain't going nowhere!"

He'd had enough. "Then I'll shoot you and carry you out of here."

Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

"Probably get a medal for it." He brought the rifle to bear.

Kaylee swallowed, wondering if she had time to get the wrench from her pocket and hit him with it before he shot her. And she knew exactly how that would feel.

"Don't you be threatening my _mei-mei_," a voice from the other side of the airlock said, and Brendan was tugged around on his heel, his chin meeting a very hard fist.

"Cap'n!" Kaylee said, her heart beginning to beat again. She glanced at the young soldier. "He okay?"

"He'll live. We ready to go?" Mal asked, stepping aside long enough for Dillon and Breed to hurry through.

"All done."

"Then heat her up."

Kaylee nodded and ran for the engine room.

Mal dragged the young man to the airlock, handing him across to Bennett. "You know, you'd be better off coming with us."

Bennett shook his head. "The rest of _my_ crew are still on board, and I can't leave them. Besides, if I stay, maybe I can talk some sense into that idiot Ubermann."

"I think it'd take a mite longer than you've got," Mal said. "But I conjure I understand. And thanks."

Bennett smiled grimly. "I have an idea this isn't the last I'm going to be seeing of you, but if it is … give my best to your wife."

"I will."

Bennett pulled the unconscious Brendan through the access tunnel, seeing Columbine's airlock close, hearing the seals activate. His mind's eye providing him with a more than graphic image of Iolanthe detaching while he was still in the tunnel, he half lifted his burden and ran as fast as he could for the scout ship. He was barely inside when the communication system announced, _"Disengage,"_ and the airlock slammed shut.

Leaning on the wall, he exhaled long and loudly, just glad to be alive. Then he laughed, as he wondered just how he was going to explain this to Ubermann.

* * *

Mal ran for the bridge, finding Dillon already in the pilot's seat. "Well?"

There was a slight shudder as the two ships parted.

"We're free."

"And under power?"

"That we are." Dillon smiled. "Whatever you're paying Kaylee, it isn't enough."

"Don't you go saying that where she can hear – she'll want a raise."

"Mal, I'll pay for it myself out of my own pocket."

"I'll hold you to that." Mal unfocused. _Frey, you ready?_

_Ready._

_Time to leave._

* * *

Ubermann gazed steadily at the man viewscreen on the bridge of Iolanthe, then his eyes narrowed. The Vanguard vessel appeared to be moving away from them. "I didn't tell you to get under way," he said sharply.

"It's not us, sir," Lieutenant Bradshaw said, punching buttons on the console in front of him. "It's definitely not us."

Ubermann span on his heel. "What are you talking about?"

"I've got no power."

His commanding officer stepped closer, leaning over him and trying a series of routines. "What the hell …"

"Nothing, sir. Everything's running normally, but there's no power getting to the thrusters."

Ubermann stared at him then jerked his head up to look at the screen again. Columbine was accelerating, and as he watched a second ship peeled from the shadow of the Arachnids, joining it as it flew towards Hera. It looked suspiciously like a Firefly. "Bradshaw …"

"I can't do anything, sir. Not until our engineers have –" Bradshaw stopped, never having heard Ubermann swear quite so long or so loud.

* * *

Mal hurried through the Vanguard, stopping at the entrance to the engine room. He could see Kaylee on her hands and knees, reaching into its innards.

"She gonna break down on us again?" he asked.

"Nope. Everything's shiny."

"Then do you have any idea how long before they -"

The young woman interrupted, but didn't even glance at him. "Shh, Cap'n. You just let me do this …" She leaned forward and lifted out three canisters from amongst the workings, placing them carefully on the tray at her side, then another three, and again. Then, with care equal to not waking a sleeping baby, she picked up the tray with its contents and carried it past Mal to the console. Setting it down gently, she dried off the condensation on the outside of each container before placing it in a box obviously designed for the purpose, with nine padded holes.

Mal swallowed. "Um … Kaylee … is that what I think it is?"

"That it is."

"The V59?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you had it hidden in the engine."

She made sure the last canister was seated properly before turning to face him. "You told me to hide 'em, Cap. It ain't like I had a lotta time to do it, and I was pretty sure those purplebellies weren't gonna search the engine room. Not with me working in here." She shrugged. "And if they had, I coulda made a pretty light show that'd soon've had them scurrying away."

"Yeah, 'cause it wasn't safe!"

"No need to fret. This stuff has to have the catalyst to go boom, and that's here." She patted another, much smaller box.

Mal winced slightly. "You sure about that?"

"Sure as shooting." She smiled brightly at him, carefully neglecting to mention that if V59 got too hot it had a tendency to burst into flames, and that the canisters had been just on the low side of too warm.

He knew there was something she wasn't telling him, but decided it probably wouldn't do his blood pressure any good if he pushed it. Instead he went back to his original reason for seeking her out. "Kaylee. Iolanthe. How soon 'til they get going again?"

Her sunshine dimmed a little. "Can't say. I didn't really have time to do more'n a lick and a promise job, but …" She bit the inside of her lip. "Those ships've got all kinds of redundancies and back-up systems. All I could do was fool it for a while into thinking it hadn't got no power, but it won't take a genius to figure it out."

"How long?"

"An hour. Maybe less. Depends on their engineer."

"Then I'm gonna consider that I've got the best mechanic floatin' and that they're stuck here for an hour." He turned to leave but her voice called him back.

"Cap, what was all that about? Why were they gonna scupper Columbine?"

He looked into her face, and briefly considered not telling her the truth, that it wouldn't be good for the baby. Then he realised this was Kaylee, and she might look like she should be playing ring-a-rosy with the other young girls, but she was a wife and mother, and there was a lot of strength in that body, strength he relied on. "Reavers," he said.

She paled slightly. "Where?"

"Heading for Hera."

She glanced up at the bulkhead. "Is Iolanthe gonna be okay? I mean, if they can't get underway, ain't they gonna be sitting ducks?"

"It might be tight, but I think it's possible they ain't even gonna look this way. The Arachnids hid us from the Feds, and those Reaver ships are a lot further off." He put his hand on her arm. "Don't _you_ be fretting over this, little one. You just make sure we don't break down."

"She's fixed," Kaylee said firmly, taking hold of herself and giving herself a mental shake. "I can tell."

"She's talking to you?"

"Surely is."

Mal smiled. "Serenity'll be jealous you're listening to another boat."

"Nah. She knows she'll always be my number one girl."

* * *

"Hank, how long?" Zoe asked softly, leaning over him.

"Landfall on Hera in about fifty minutes." He glanced up at her, seeing her beautiful face not six inches from his. "Any idea where you want me to put down?"

She didn't answer for a moment, just narrowed her eyes slightly in thought.

Freya, still in the co-pilot's seat, glanced at Columbine keeping pace with them, then turned back to the planet getting bigger in the bridge windows. "Is there any sign of activity around the Abbey?"

"Not so far," Hank admitted. "Only I'm getting some weird interference, like the sensors are being pushed away."

"You mean we're being jammed."

"Yeah."

"Zoe?" Jayne stood in the doorway. "River says you need to come see this."

The first mate looked at the other two, then followed Jayne off the bridge, Freya at their heels. Hank, so curious it was making his toes itch, ground his teeth in frustration, but knew his place right now was exactly where he was sitting.

In the kitchen River was leaning over the table, aligning sheets from her sketchpad.

"Honey?" Zoe called softly as she stepped down into the room. "You wanted us?"

The psychic nodded, staring at the pages. "Here. Land here." She tapped one of the sheets.

Zoe looked down, and was shocked to see an amazingly accurate rendering of the land around the Abbey. Where River was indicating was a small plateau to the east, surrounded on three sides by foothills, and on the fourth by a dried river bed. "Why there?" she asked.

"The lay of the land means that any surveillance equipment will be markedly less effective," River replied, her dark hair falling in a curtain across her face. "If Hank brings us in from the north, then changes direction here -" Again she touched the map. "- they'll think we're going to land at the Monument. It should give us a little time before they know we're inside."

"And will they?" Zoe studied the drawings. "Know we're inside?"

River lifted her head a moment. "Oh, yes. That can't be helped. But with the Alliance and Reavers to deal with as well, hopefully their attention will be divided."

"And the rest of these?" To Zoe it looked like the schematics of corridors and underground passageways.

"It is," River confirmed. "This is the layout of the base below the Abbey."

"River, sweetie, how do you know this?"

"I can see it."

"River …"

Freya stepped closer, pushing the young woman's hair out of her face so she could look into her eyes. "You know why Zoe's concerned."

River nodded. "Afraid this is wrong. That it's been given to me by Mara."

"Pretty much. We might be walking into a trap."

"No. This is true. I've checked the plans on the Cortex for the Abbey, and extrapolated. This is logical."

"Still doesn't mean it's accurate."

River gazed at Freya. "She wants to meet me. I don't know why. But at this distance I can see other things, and I see this." She indicated the plans.

Freya smiled. "Okay, _xiao nu_. I believe you."

River flashed a grin that lit her face, then was just as quickly serious again. "Thank you."

Zoe nodded. "Fine. I'll let Hank know where to park. There space for both ships?"

"Yes."

"Good." She looked at the ex-mercenary. "Jayne, better get tooled up. I can't help feeling that for once we're gonna be glad you like to carry enough weapons to start a war."

"Grenades?" the big man asked hopefully.

"Oh, yeah. Plenty of them."

* * *

Not too far away, coming in from a slightly different heading, a shiny black ship, resembling a beetle with its curved horns, moved silently through the black as it approached Hera, the men inside adjusting their trajectory to the ground with blue-gloved hands.


	29. Chapter 29

Gabriel stepped quietly into the storage locker everyone called Eden, and smiled. "I didn't know there could be such places on ships like this."

Simon looked up from the ViroStim, then glanced at the bins, overflowing with greenery. "It's River's work," he explained. "Keeps her grounded. A sort of … therapy. At least partly."

"And what's the other part?"

"She wanted to give something back to the crew. To the people who made us family."

"She loves them that much."

Simon nodded, smiling slightly. "She planted strawberries for Kaylee. And she's getting quite good at growing vegetables, which augments our sometimes bland diet."

Gabriel ran his hand through the soil. "You know, if you need money so that you can have better food -"

"No." There was no heat in the word, nor coldness either, just a tone that would brook no argument. "We do okay. There's jobs, and when there isn't … we cope."

"It sounds a hard life."

"It can be. Sometimes. Then there are times when Mal sets us down on a moon with a beach and a warm ocean, and it can be the best life ever."

"And do you call him _father_ like River does?"

Simon laughed. "No. Oddly enough, I don't. But I can understand why she does." _Daddy will come, and take us home._ He hadn't understood then, thought she was talking about the man standing in front of him, but he'd come more and more to the conclusion that she was talking about Mal.

"I have to say, I'm jealous."

"If it helps, it makes Mal feel very self-conscious sometimes."

Gabriel chuckled dryly. "Actually, you know, I think it does."

The ViroStim beeped, just a single sound that made both men stop.

"What's that?" Gabriel asked.

"The AntiPax." Simon went down onto his heels and opened the side of the machine, sliding out a tray of tiny ampoules.

"Can I help?"

Simon looked up into his father's face, and for once saw nothing but honesty there. "Yes. If you'd like. I need to get these ready."

"Of course." He followed his son out of Eden.

* * *

"Can I help?" Breed asked, leaning into Columbine's engine room.

"No, no," Kaylee said, pushing her hair out of her face. "I think I got this handled." She screwed the last of the canisters together before placing it with the others.

"Only you haven't stopped since we left the Arachnids."

"Not like it's been that long." The ship shuddered as they dropped into atmo. "Although I'm glad I finished 'fore she started doing that. Feels like the Cap's flying."

"No, it's Dillon."

"Oh." She chuckled. "Sorry."

"I take it Mal isn't the best pilot in the 'verse."

"No. Not really. But that's why he has Hank. And Frey, a'course, only that ain't the only reason he's got her."

"No."

"I mean, he can fly well enough, pretty good if it's a straight line, but there are others better."

"Kaylee, I understand."

The vibration ceased as Columbine passed into quieter air.

She glanced at him. "Could you bring this box?" she asked, lifting up a sack herself. "Only I can't really carry both."

"Your wish is my command." He grinned and picked up the crate, surprised at its weight.

"Don't drop it," she cautioned.

"I'll try not to."

They headed for the small bay.

* * *

"There it is," Hank said, manoeuvring the Firefly into position.

Freya looked down, seeing River's drawing become real beneath them. "Remember, come in from -"

"The north, I know." He adjusted their heading, and for just a moment they saw a large stone building sitting snugly in the landscape. He cleared his throat. "That it?"

"The Abbey? I suppose it must be."

"Doesn't look like much."

"No."

He glanced at her. "You can feel her, can't you? This Mara Tam. Like River does."

"A little," Freya admitted. "Nowhere near as clearly, but … it's like an itch I can't scratch."

Hank smiled humourlessly. "One way or the other, I don't think you're going to have to worry about that for much longer."

* * *

Jayne packed the last of the grenades in the small backpack, then turned to his ammo, making sure every compartment on his belt was full. His attention, though, was caught by River standing motionless by the empty crib. "He's safe, moonbrain."

"I know."

"And you'll be seeing him again soon."

"I know."

"Then we need to get ready."

She sighed softly, running her hand down the designs Jayne had carved. "I miss him."

He wanted to comfort her, to hold her until she understood, but there wasn't time. "Me too. Come on, River. Shake yourself."

She could feel Mara in her mind, pressing against her emotions, and with a swift, sure hand picked up one of her pistols, checking it was loaded before sliding it into its holster, using the action to push back at the intrusion.

_Better_, Jayne thought to himself. Then quietly, when he was sure she wasn't looking, he picked up one of the small stuffed toys from the box against the wall and tucked it into his vest.

A judder ran through Serenity's superstructure.

"We're down," River said, barely able to hold the love she felt for her Jayne under control, knowing he was taking a tiny part of Caleb with him.

* * *

As Serenity's ramp lowered into the dust of Hera, Kaylee could barely wait for it to kiss the dirt before she sprang out of Columbine's airlock, running into the cargo bay and throwing herself at her husband.

"Simon!"

"_Bao bei_," he said, holding her close and showering kisses on her face. "Are you all right?"

"We're fine," she said, trying hard not to cry. It had been less than a day since she'd seen him, but it seemed like half a lifetime. "We're both shiny."

"I'd like to check you over, nevertheless," he said, trying to get her moving towards the infirmary. "Just to make sure."

"Only if you can do it in about five minutes," Mal said, striding up the ramp himself and pulling Freya into his arms. "That's about all the time we've got."

"What do you mean?"

Kaylee wriggled a bit in his arms. "Iolanthe's back up and running. And I don't think her captain's gonna be very pleased with what I did to 'em."

"It looked like they're going to be heading this way," Dillon added, joining them in the bay.

"Ah." Simon could see that was likely to be a problem.

"Kaylee, you go get that stuff you were working on," Mal ordered. "There'll be plenty of time for long hello's when we get back."

Reluctantly, the young mechanic let go of her husband, and backed towards the doors. "Don't you go anywhere without me, y'hear?" she said before turning and running for Columbine.

"Is she ever likely to slow down?" Dillon asked.

"I doubt it," Simon said, watching her leave, then finding someone at his elbow. "Mal."

"Simon." The captain of Serenity steered the young doctor to one side. "Got me a favour to ask."

"What is it?"

"Do you have the formula for the two antidotes yet?"

"As it happens, yes. The ViroStim finished just a few minutes ago. I have both of them."

"Good. Get 'em to Hank. I want them broadwaved, as far as we can get 'em."

"Yes, but we still don't know if the -"

Mal put his hand on the doctor's shoulder, silencing him. "I know that, Simon. But even if it doesn't, at least it's a starting point. And we do know one of 'em works, otherwise Hank wouldn't still be up on the bridge annoying me."

Simon stared into his blue eyes, and nodded. "Yes, Mal. I'll send it up straightaway." He hurried through into the common area.

"So," Mal said, with somewhat forced jollity, rubbing his hands together. "Do we know where're we're going?"

"We do, sir," Zoe said. "Thanks to River."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" He looked around. "Where is she, by the way?"

"Getting her weapons together with Jayne," Freya said. "The amount she said they were bringing, I'm surprised either of them will be able to walk, let alone fight."

"I have the feeling we're gonna need every one of 'em." He smiled slightly. "So what did she say?"

"There's a maze of corridors and rooms cut into the bedrock," his wife explained. "River drew it for us and we scanned it in." She held out a small reader. "She's marked where we need to go."

"And do we know how to get in?"

Zoe nodded. "Yes sir. River's found a well shaft. It goes down all the way to the lower levels."

"How deep?"

"Deep."

"And how, exactly, are we going to get down it?"

"Rope, sir." Zoe indicated the great reel of cable waiting by the stairs.

"That enough?"

"Barely."

"How close to a big drop at the other end is barely?"

"A few feet."

He raised one eyebrow. "Fine. Only Jayne's going first so he can catch the rest of us."

"Cap?" Kaylee was back, this time with Breed carrying the box, while she had a sack in her arms.

"All done?" Mal asked.

"Yes sir, Cap'n." She nodded towards the crate. "All set. Just twist the top, press the green button the number of minutes you wanna wait, then press the red. After that it's just a case of run like hell."

"Shiny." Remembering the AI ship, he added, "How big a bang you think it's likely to be?"

"Pretty big," Kaylee admitted. "And it'll keep burning 'til there's no metal left. We don't wanna be anywhere close when it blows."

Mal licked his lips. "Right." He looked around his crew. "Freya, you take three, Zoe three and Jayne the rest. Gives us a better chance of success." He looked at the sack. "And what's in there?"

Kaylee grinned. "Just something I was able to knock up. They're boosters for our coms. They won't reach far, certainly not far enough to send that message, but it'll mean we can talk to each other over the jamming. We plug one in at the surface, take the others with us and leave 'em at strategic intervals."

"Good thinking. It'll surely help 'fore we can take the jamming equipment down. But you ain't coming." He took the sack from her unresisting fingers then looked up. She was staring at him.

"What did you just say?"

"You ain't coming. I need you here with Hank."

The look became a glare. "If'n you're saying just because I'm pregnant that I can't -"

"Partly, yes. I ain't risking that small baby, Kaylee. But it's more than that. I need someone here I can trust to look after the Tams. And you have to help Hank. That message needs to get out to as many and as far as we can send it."

"Captain … Mal …"

"We got Alliance and Reavers breathing down our necks up here, and those New Browncoats down below." He barked a laugh. "We got ourselves in a real vice this time, but knowing you're safe is gonna mean one less person to worry about. Well, two, in your case."

Her glare softened. "Only it ain't gonna stop you worrying, is it?"

"Well, no, but -"

"It's okay." She touched his hand. "I ain't a fighter, I know that. I won't like it, but I'll stay. And we'll get that message out, don't you fret."

"Wasn't planning on the fretting part." He smiled at her. "Now go help your husband make sure he's got everything we need."

"Yes, Mal."

He watched her run for the infirmary, and wondered why it had to be only with the prospect of imminent death that his crew actually obeyed him.

"We want to come. We want to help." This was Gabriel, stepping down into the cargo bay.

Mal shook his head. "Nope. This ain't your fight."

"Of course it is. If we hadn't sent River to that awful place -"

"And you can handle a gun, can you?" He sounded blunt, hard, but there was no time for subtlety. "You can kill a man who's trying to kill you?"

Regan's hand flew to her mouth, but Gabriel stood firm.

"If needed, yes."

Mal studied the older man. "You know, I think maybe you could. But I ain't gonna put it to the test. You're staying behind. End of story."

"Besides, you're not needed," River said, having come out of the shuttle. She was standing on the catwalk, for once in a pair of pants but with her pretty pink dress over the top. Crossed over that were her bandoleers, pistols under each arm.

Regan looked up. "Merciful Buddha, River …"

Her daughter came down the stairs, Jayne at her back. She spoke as she walked, her boots making hardly a sound on the metal steps. "Father, if you came with us, we'd have to look after you all the time, no matter how good your intentions. And we need to be focused, or we won't survive."

Gabriel felt every word like a blow to his belly. "But _you're_ going."

"I'm what they made me. A killer."

"No, River …" He couldn't help thinking of the tiny baby he'd held in his arms, barely an hour old, while her mother slept. He'd promised to look after her forever that night, never knowing that _forever_ was only fourteen years.

"Not a baby. Not any more. A wife and mother, and a crazy lunatic assassin." She spoke matter of factly, as if she was discussing the weather, and Jayne growled in agreement.

"But you can't possibly -"

"No point arguing what's already been decided," Mal broke in. "River's going, you're staying on board. That's it."

Gabriel went to speak again, but Regan took his arm. "Yes, Captain," she said, holding her husband back.

Mal nodded. "Good." He turned to his ex-mercenary. "Jayne, get that rope to the well. River, go with him and make sure it's fastened secure - I don't feel like taking a long jump down a deep hole worrying it's gonna come loose."

"On it, Mal." The big man picked up the reel with barely a grunt, disappearing outside with it.

River looked at her parents, at least the ones that had brought her almost to adulthood. "We might all still die, you know," she said seriously. "And I will miss you." Quickly, and almost too fast for them to feel it, she kissed both Gabriel and Regan on the cheek, and ran out of Serenity after her husband.

The Tams stood silently, holding onto each other in shock.

"_Mal, you got a second?"_ Hank's voice sounded tinnily over the ship com, breaking the quiet.

Mal looked at his first mate. "Zoe, make sure everything's tied down. Soon as we're gone, I want Kaylee to be able to lock the ship up 'til no-one can get in 'cept us, and even then only if we use the right password."

"Yes, sir."

"You want anything from your bunk while I'm upstairs?"

"No, sir." She touched the backpack at her feet. "I got everything I need right here."

"Frey?"

His wife smiled slightly. "My coat, if you're getting yours. I think it feels a little chilly today."

"You got it." He took the stairs two at a time, knowing exactly why she wanted her coat, and it wasn't because she was at all cold. It was the same reason he wanted his. It was what they were, Independents, and wearing that brown meant maybe they could live to see this through.

But first …"Hank."

"Hi, Mal." The pilot turned in his seat and grinned, his hair standing like an untidy brown halo around his head from where he'd been rubbing his hands distractedly through it. "Thought for a moment you weren't gonna make it back this time."

"I had my doubts too. Briefly." He moved forward to scan the board. "You get the formulas?"

Hank nodded. "Just now. I've got it all ready to fly , but … what do you want the message to say?"

"What it is. And just three more words. Pass it on."

Hank swallowed hard. "Just that?"

"Yeah. They don't need to know who sent it."

"Okay."

"Will you be able to get it through?"

"Not yet," Hank admitted. "There's sophisticated jamming equipment being used. But once that's knocked out there won't be a problem."

"Good." Mal studied the other man. "Was that it? Only you could have asked me this over the com, and I ain't exactly got time to be chasing up and down stairs just to start holding your hand."

"Well, I …" Hank dropped his head to stare at his fingers.

"Spit it out."

Raising his head quickly, there was something in his grey eyes Mal wasn't sure he'd ever seen before on his pilot. "Look after Zoe for me, Mal. Don't let her get dead. Or I won't be held responsible for my actions."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes." He thrust his chin out, almost daring the other man to hit him.

Instead Mal laughed. "Good. About time you grew a pair, least when it comes to Zoe. And she tends to look after me, or hadn't you noticed?"

Surprised beyond belief, Hank could only say, "It … has come to my attention."

"Hank, I can't promise something I don't know I can keep. But I'll say this. She's got as good a chance of living through this as any of us, probably better'n most, just 'cause she's Zoe. That do you?"

"I … guess."

"Good." Mal walked off the bridge, heading for his bunk. Dropping down the access hatch, he quickly gathered what he needed, including Freya's coat, and was just glancing into the empty nursery when he heard Hank yell.

"Mal! We got company!"

He jumped up the ladder to the corridor. "Ubermann?"

"Nope. Big, shiny Alliance Cruisers, three of 'em, and they don't look like they're coming to see the sights."

Mal's jaw dropped. "When?"

"Oh, about the same time the Reavers get here."

In his mind's eye Mal could see the last battle they'd encountered, when Wash flew them through the jaws of hell as Alliance and Reavers fought to the death. "Well, looks like we're all here," he murmured, then stood upright to punch the ship com. "People, time's run out on us. We leave. Now."

He didn't need to hear the intakes of breath to know the tension on board had just skyrocketed.

"_Wuh de mah_," Hank moaned.

"Keep my boat warmed over. I doubt they're gonna bother too much with you, but if you see trouble coming, you take off, hide in the mountains. Permaybehaps the Reavers won't come looking for you there."

"Mal -"

"Just think, Hank. You're in charge. Just like you always wanted. 'Cept if anyone comes to find out, tell 'em you were only obeying orders." He flashed a grin. "You just do what I tell you. Someone has to be around to go pick up the kids." He ran full pelt for the cargo bay, vanishing around the corner.

Hank stared, then realised this was the version of Mal Reynolds hardly anyone ever got to see. The man who'd kept his men together throughout the final battle, who'd believed so hard it nearly broke him when Command didn't come through. He licked suddenly dry lips and muttered, "Yeah, Mal. No problem."


	30. Chapter 30

The wind was blowing cold against them as they stood beside the well, little more really than a hole some eighteen feet across drilled straight down. Originally it had been inside a small wooden hut, protecting it from leaves, dirt and other such pollutants as any small animals that might have fallen in and drowned, but the war had swept that away.

"No water," River said, her hair flying. "The underground stream was diverted, dammed, to keep it from supplying the Independents."

"Would that be why we spent those weeks picking dirt out of our navels?" Mal asked.

"Speak for yourself, sir," Zoe responded, strapping into her harness.

"I usually do."

"All ready," Jayne said, making sure the rope hung over a smooth area of rock and wasn't likely to wear through as they were going down it. "You want me to go first, make sure the rope's long enough?"

Mal considered briefly. "You go first, but we don't have time to wait, nor to pull you back if it ain't."

Jayne grunted a chuckle. "Shiny. I'll yell if there's a big drop, just so's you're ready for it." He positioned himself on the very lip.

"I wouldn't worry," Mal said. "Least we'll have you to land on."

The big man made a hand gesture illegal on several planets, then tugged on the rope one last time.

"Do you really think we can do this?" Simon asked quietly.

"No idea," Mal admitted. "But I ain't in the mood to wait for these things to get born and come out after us."

"I don't think any of us are." Simon nodded, watching Jayne drop over the edge into the darkness, the only sign he'd gone a rapidly disappearing glow from the chemical light stick hanging from his belt.

Freya turned to Mal, then reached up and raked her lips across his, bruising and wanting equally, before following Jayne.

"You know, I don't think Hank's claustrophobia would have been able to stand this," Simon added, staring at the well, and giving his Captain a moment to gather himself.

"I imagine you're right about that."

"Is that why you told him to stay on Serenity?"

"No."

"Then -"

"Because he's the best pilot I've got, besides Frey, and maybe he can keep the others from becoming Reaver-bait. And my wife refused to stay on board."

"You asked?"

"I did. And I might be needing your services to tend to some of the wounds I sustained."

Simon smiled tightly. "Whenever you want it."

Zoe followed Breed and Dillon into the well, Alex at her heels.

"You got those antidotes?"

"Yes." Simon patted his pockets where the tiny dispensers sat. "If you need them, the right hand pocket is the one against Reavers, the left is for everyone else."

"You couldn't combine 'em?"

The young man shook his head. "No time. And they might have cancelled each other out if I'd tried. For all I know it could have made a poison."

"Good job you didn't then." A thought struck him. "That gonna happen if we use 'em both?"

"I don't know, Mal. Probably not a good idea."

"So it's gonna be a case of wait and see?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Sure hope you got quick hands, doc."

"Simon." River was in front of them. "Time to go."

He stepped to the edge and looked down, feeling a cold sweat spring up between his shoulder blades. "Do you think claustrophobia is catching?"

"You're the medic. But somehow I doubt it," Mal said.

"Oh, good." He attached his harness to the rope. "Just so that I know."

Then it was just Mal and River. She moved closer to him.

"Two by two …" River whispered.

Mal jerked around. "They're here?"

She nodded, her face almost white. "Very close."

"Then we don't have time to be dallying."

River sat on the edge of the well, her hands ready to guide her down the rope. "You take care of us, _jia yan_," she said, looking up at him, her eyes as dark as the blackness she was about to slide into.

"Odd, but I was thinking just the same thing about you, _xiao nu_."

Her face softened, and she was gone.

Taking a deep breath, Mal peered over the edge, clamping down ruthlessly on his imagination, and failing almost entirely to eradicate the stories his boyhood friends used to tell about what lived at the bottom of deep, dark holes.

Dropping to the edge with slightly less grace than River had done, he activated the spikes on the cylinder in his hand, then slammed it into the ground. The spikes extended further, anchoring it to the dirt, as a small antenna popped free from the top. He grinned. Girl surely knew her stuff. Glancing once more towards his ship, towards his Serenity, he screwed up his courage and pushed off into blackness.

* * *

Kaylee wrapped her arms around her, the cold air making her shiver. At least, that's what she told herself. Mal had given clear instructions, that as soon as they were gone she was to lock everything up tight, and basically hide. She didn't like it, particularly as Simon was out there with them, but there was little she could do beyond some very minor disobeying, and now she was waiting, just in case they changed their minds and came back.

Not that they would. She'd seen the look on Mal's face, recognised it all too well. Once before he'd describing it as misbehaving, and maybe it was. But only in the sense of doing something someone else didn't want him to do. In this case, it was the Alliance and the New Browncoats, but then he always did aim big.

She'd read someplace, in one of River's books, about something some ancient people from Earth-that-was used to say. She couldn't recall the exact story, but the phrase that had stuck in her mind, that had kept her awake with the cold chills, was about men 'coming back with their shields, or on them'. Victory or death. And that was the look she'd seen. No, they wouldn't be coming home. Not 'til it was done.

She rubbed her arms, the action somehow soothing, until a footstep behind her made her turn. "Oh, hey there, Regan."

The older Mrs Tam smiled, but it wasn't much more than a tilt to her lips. "Kaylee …"

"What is it?" She could tell something was bothering her mother-in-law, and her kind heart went out. "They'll be okay, you know. The Cap'll look after 'em. He's good at that."

Regan clasped her hands in front of her. "Oh, I know that. I have a great deal of respect for your captain. But …"

"It's okay. I feel the same. Anxious about everyone."

"It's just –"

The sound of engines overhead stopped all conversation and had the two women staring at each other. Kaylee ran to the open bay door. "_Fan shou yin_," she breathed, making Regan blush slightly. She slammed her hand down onto the button, closing the hatch, activating the com at the same time. "Hank!"

"_What is it, pumpkin?"_ he asked.

"I think you'd better let Mal know he's gonna have company."

"_What?"_

"A Fed shuttle just landed. I think that Commander Ubermann's here."

"_Shit." _There was a slight pause. _"Any sign they're coming after us?"_

"I don't know. Don't think so," Kaylee admitted, wondering whether she should get one of the guns out from the armoury. "Looked like they were landing the other side of the bluff, awful close to where … but even if maybe there's another way down to the lower levels, they gotta be careful."

"_Let's hope they got those boosters set."_ The com clicked off.

"Are … we safe?" Regan asked.

Kaylee bit her lip. "Can't say."

Regan felt her knees buckle, and she sat down hard on one of the crates. "No …"

"Hey, you okay?" Once again Kaylee's concern for another human being overrode her drive for personal safety. "You want me to get your husband? You want me to find Gabriel for you?"

Regan wanted to laugh, but knew it would only turn to hysteria if she gave in to the impulse. "No." She swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat. "He's … he's resting."

Kaylee glanced towards the passenger quarters. "If'n you're sure …"

The older woman pushed herself to her feet. "I'm sure. And I think I might just go and sit with him." She forced a smile and walked slowly away.

Kaylee watched her, worrying at her lip, wondering why she felt unsettled.

* * *

Mal seemed to be dropping forever, and a small part of him wondered whether he was actually going to end up in that special hell Book had kept threatening him with.

_Not unless I'm going to be there with you_. Freya's voice echoed in his mind just as her kiss echoed on his lips.

_I figure you're gonna be with the angels, xin gan. Playing one of them harps._

_Probably very badly. _She laughed, then again when he yelped as a hand grabbed his ankle.

"S'only me, Cap," Jayne said, his eyes twinkling in amusement even in the barely-there light of the glow sticks. He guided Mal into a standing position, more than a decade of dead leaves, and probably a lot of other dead things, cushioning his landing.

"Thanks."

"No probs."

"What's that smell?" he asked, although he was pretty sure what the answer was going to be.

"A body," Jayne confirmed. "Been here a few days, and the rats've been at it."

"Anyone we know?"

"Difficult to tell. Ain't got that much face left to speak of."

"Probably someone who got on the wrong side of the folks down here."

"Prob'ly. Checked his pockets, though."

"Jayne, were you going to steal from a dead man?"

"No!" The ex-mercenary looked aggrieved. "Anyway, he didn't have a credit on him. But he did have this." He held out something.

Mal took it, noting it was one of the new model IDent cards, where just touching an area on it brought up the relevant information. Not much, admittedly, since his fingerprint didn't let him beyond the first level, but it at least supplied the name of the dead man. "Chiang Goff," he read, then gave a low whistle. "_Parliamentary Member_ Chiang Goff."

"Played with the hornets and got stung," River commented, but didn't appear to want a response.

"Sir?" Zoe moved closer.

"Looks like maybe these New Browncoats have friends in high places," Mal said quietly.

"You don't think Ubermann's one of them, do you?" In the dim light her skin seemed to glow.

"Nope. He was pretty open about his hatred for Independents, and I don't think he was that good an actor."

"And the Alliance ships coming in?"

He smiled. "Zoe, don't go looking for trouble. It's gonna come finding us soon enough." He looked at the rest of his assembled troops, wishing he had a hundred more. "Ready?"

"Yes, Mal," Freya said, the reader in her hand. "And it's that way." She pointed into the mouth of darkness ahead of them.

"Then you –" The com on his belt buzzed. He dragged it loose and thumbed the switch. "What is it, Hank?"

There was a lot of static, but eventually the pilot's voice broke through. _"… keep an … out for …"_

"Hank, you're breaking up."

"Mal, wait." Breed dropped to his heels and pulled one of Kaylee's boosters from the sack, thrusting it deep into the accumulated crud and activating it. Immediately Hank's voice was clearer, and they could hear what he was saying.

"_That better?"_

"Much," Mal agreed. "You wanna repeat whatever it was?"

"_Ubermann's on his way. Landed in a shuttle a few minutes ago."_

Mal involuntarily looked up into the darkness above him. "Is he coming this way?"

"_Can't tell. Just … be careful."_

"Always am. And you remember what I told you."

"_Right."_ The com cut off.

Mal blew out a breath through pursed lips then looked at his crew. "Everyone ready to go?" he asked.

There were assorted acknowledgements.

"Mal, don't you think it would be better if Hank took Serenity somewhere else?" Alex said, settling the unexpected weight of the gunbelt around his hips a little more securely. "I don't care about Columbine, but if the Reavers attack –"

"That's pretty much what I told him to do," Mal interrupted. "If he thinks there's any kind of danger, he's to hightail it away."

"You don't really think he's going to do that, do you, sir?" Zoe put in, leading off down the rough hewn corridor. "With us still down here?"

"Zoe, I live in hopes of that man obeying one of my orders some day, and I'm kinda hoping it's today."

"_I_ hope you ain't holding your breath, sir."

"Nope, Zoe," Mal said, checking the others were following, Jayne bringing up the rear. "I ain't that far gone."

With the first mate's torch leading the way, they made fairly good time, with only a minor injury as Breed tripped over a rock where it had fallen from the wall, skinning his leg.

"I really can't take you anywhere," Dillon muttered, watching Simon apply a quick spray of antiseptic sealant.

"I can't do much more, but I think you'll live," the young doctor said.

Breed stood up, shaking his trouser leg back down and looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry about that," he mumbled.

"No need to apologise," Mal said. "It's just a timely reminder we need to take care. I don't doubt these tunnels ain't exactly the safest."

"Dug a long time ago," River agreed, touching the walls with her fingertips, just like she was reading Braille. "Men bled to create these."

"_Xaio nu_, if you could hold back on the creepyfied comments I'd take it as a kindness," Mal said after a long, very quiet pause. "I mean … unless it's relevant."

"Yes, Mal." She smiled, but it wasn't her usual, and he noticed her foot was tapping out a rhythm on the ground.

"You okay?" He moved closer, putting his hand on her shoulder. "She getting to you?"

River shrugged, then nodded. "The closer I get, the more it hurts," she admitted.

He could tell by the slight lines at the corners of her eyes that she was tense. "Okay. Just try not to shoot any of us by mistake."

"I'll try."

"All I ask." He motioned them forwards again. "You know, I'm not usually the one for wishing my life away, but I sincerely do wish right now that it was tomorrow."

"I wouldn't do that," Dillon said. "It might be worse."

"Thanks for the attempt to cheer me up."

"You're welcome."

* * *

It was barely another fifteen minutes before they realised the darkness ahead of them was thinning, and then they were in a narrow corridor, the floor and walls smooth, with metal braces at regular intervals, lit by panels in the ceiling.

"Okay, people," Mal whispered, dropping his voice without conscious thought. "Extra care, now." He moved forward, stopping at a junction. "Frey?"

She consulted the reader. "Left. Then right. That brings us into the main access route. From there it's an easy passage to the various areas of the complex."

He smiled grimly. "Shiny."

She was right. Less than ten minutes and they were waiting at the main corridor.

"It's very quiet," Simon murmured.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Alex replied, barely moving his lips.

"Maybe _too_ quiet," Dillon agreed.

Mal and Zoe exchanged glances. One thing they'd learned, from years of war and then of a peace that wasn't exactly peaceful, was not to say such things as it was too quiet. That was just asking for –

A bullet whined past Mal's ear, and he felt the breeze against the old scar tissue.

"_Tzao gao_," he muttered, and ducked as other guns opened up.

Everyone scuttled back into the comparative safety of the side corridor.

"What was that phrase you used?" Dillon asked. "Something about not stirring up a hornet's nest?"

Mal laughed shortly, the sound lost in the noise of gunfire. "Yeah. I figure my Ma'd be telling me off about now and bandaging my stings with vinegar."

"We probably tripped any number of detectors. Just because we can't see them, doesn't mean they're not there."

"Yeah, and I'm guessing these New Browncoats are probably pretty paranoid." He stuck his head around the corner, counting the number of guns as they tried to separate it from his shoulders. Ducking back, he leaned on the wall. "I make it ten."

"Twelve," Jayne corrected him, dropping to one knee and opening fire, not even looking where he was aiming. "Eight rifles and four repeaters."

"You sure?"

"Pretty much."

"Keep 'em occupied."

"And there I was considering takin' River on a picnic."

His wife settled next to him, her own guns in her slender hands. "That would be nice. But I think we have something to do first."

"You got it, moonbrain."

Mal dropped back a few feet, letting the ex-mercenary and the crazy, lunatic assassin get on with it. "Frey, can we get to where we need to go another way? Maybe off that junction?"

She shook her head, staring at the small palm reader. "Not to the hybrids. The com room is back that way, but –"

"Shiny. Take Alex and get that jamming equipment shut down."

Her head jerked up. "Mal, I can't just –"

"Yes, you can." He took her arm. "We knew we were gonna have to split up. It's just come a bit quicker than expected."

"Mal –"

"Take Alex. We'll keep 'em occupied here, give you a chance to slip back." He leaned forward. "We need to get those AntiPax formulas out, soon as we can." She stared at him, and he could almost tell the moment she gave in as her eyes changed from fury to acceptance. "Good girl."

"Ain't a girl," she murmured.

"You are to me. Now, soon as you're done you meet us by the hybrid containment area. You know where that is?"

She nodded. "You'd better keep this." She handed him the reader.

"Go on. Better get going." This time it was him who pressed his lips to hers, then turned her round and slapped her on the rump.

She glared at him over her shoulder before grabbing Alex by the arm and dragging him back down the narrow corridor.

Mal made his way back. "How're we doing?"

"Okay, _now_ it's ten," Jayne said.

"You know, we need to make a barricade." Mal glanced out, staring at the doors a short way along the corridor.

"A grenade?"

"You got a low yield?"

"A couple, but –"

"We don't want the concussion to kill us, do we? Besides, we don't know how secure the roof is."

"Fine." The big man seemed put out at not being able to blow up something bigger, but he reached around his back and pulled two canisters from the back of his vest. "Here," he said. "Better do this together."

Mal nodded. "You take the left side, I'll take the right …"

"And I'll be on Three Hills before you …"

They twisted, counted, then tossed the grenades, ducking back, hands over ears. A double boom thudded through the floor, and the air seemed to vibrate in sympathy.

River was the first to check. "We have cover," she said.

Mal joined her. She was right. The two explosives had blown open rooms on either side, and brought down some of the wall. There was a barricade between two and five feet high right the way across. "Couldn't have planned it better," he muttered. "Okay, we need to –"

"Mal, we've got company!" Dillon yelled, pushing Breed in front of him. "I think Ubermann's arrived, and he's behind us!"

Without another word the four men and one woman slid from the corridor to behind the barrier, spreading out behind the higher sections. Gunfire renewed the other side, but at least for the moment they had some shelter.

"Jayne. Big grenade. Block their entry."

The big man grinned. "Yeah." He got ready.

"It's all right," River said softly, touching Mal's arm. "Freya and Alex had reached the other corridor. They weren't seen. They are being followed, though."

"She know?"

"She does now."

"Thanks."

"Fire in the hold," Jayne warned, tossing the grenade into the corridor and running back.

A man followed him, dressed in grey, purple glinting from his body armour. He raised an odd-looking rifle.

"Mal!" River shouted, aiming and shooting even as Mal pulled Jayne away and out of the line of fire.

The soldier fell backwards, just as the grenade exploded and brought the roof of the side corridor down, but Mal couldn't get out of the way fast enough.

The gas pellet exploded in his face, and he took a breath that smelled of death and roses before he could stop himself. Simon, horrified, ran towards him past the lower sections of wall, miraculously not getting hit by any bullets.

"Mal!" he shouted, his hands drawing out one of each of the vaccines, but not knowing which one to use. Get it wrong and Mal might have time to tear him to pieces … He skidded to a halt on his knees in front of his captain and friend.


	31. Chapter 31

"_But this is the question. Which will he be? When the door opens, will he lay down and die or tear your flesh for his feast?" Niska, EDEN_

* * *

Mal looked at him in shock, and time seemed to hang on a thread. Then his eyes changed, and he threw back his head and howled, a sound echoed from elsewhere in the complex as it ripped from Freya's throat, feeling the murderous rage take hold.

Simon darted in, slapping the tiny hypo against his neck, narrowly avoiding Mal's hooked fingers as he reached for something to tear limb from limb. As the drug entered his bloodstream he jerked, his teeth slamming together as his body went rigid, every tendon standing out against his neck, his fists so tight he was drawing blood from his palms.

"Sir?" Zoe asked, her hand ready to fire, to end her best and oldest friend if it didn't work. "Mal?"

Everything seemed to slow around them and they were in a bubble, silent, waiting, aching with the tension. Then Mal went limp, as if his bones had turned to water. And time sat on the knife's edge.

Simon moved forward to touch his neck, make sure Mal was still … then the captain took a shuddering breath.

"Mal?" Simon asked, reaching out even as Zoe took the slack out of her trigger.

"Doc?" Mal said, and suddenly the sound of the gunfight was all around them again.

"How do you feel?" the young man asked, putting his hand on Zoe's gun and pushing it down.

"Like I got kicked by a mule. Or a whole gallon of Kaylee's finest." Mal struggled to sit up, then realisation broke on his face. "Was that …" He looked down at the hypo still in Simon's fingers.

"Yes." Simon allowed himself to breathe again. "The AntiPax works."

"And it didn't kill me." Mal shook his head. "Helluva way to test it." He went to pick up his gun from where he'd dropped it and noticed his hand was trembling.

"What was it like?" Simon asked before he could stop himself, then looked ashamed.

Mal paused, for one agonising moment reliving the feeling of a billion minds pressing into his, the hunger, the … He glanced up. "Simon, if your sister felt even a tenth of that, I ain't ever gonna call her crazy again."

"Somehow I don't think I'll hold you to that promise."

"Well, the rest of the whys and wherefores'll have to wait." He pushed himself to his feet, keeping low. "Got us a battle to fight." He staggered a little and might have fallen, but Zoe was there, her strong arm holding him upright.

"I don't suppose it's going to do me any good to tell you to be take it easy for a while, is it?" Simon asked dryly.

"Not a damn bit." He nodded towards the hypo. "Does that stuff work like a vaccine? In advance?"

"Since it didn't actually … yes."

"Then River and Frey are to use it. Right now."

"I can't guarantee it will work on psychics," Simon said yet again.

_Already done_, he heard in his mind from his wife, and he had to smile, which grew as his surrogate daughter slid her hand into Simon's pocket and withdrew a hypo, placing it against her own neck. Activating it, she winced as the drug entered her bloodstream.

"Don't matter now." Mal shook his head ruefully. "And I think Frey must've picked your pocket too."

"Really." Simon didn't look angry so much as resigned.

"Don't you think the rest of us might be potentials?" Dillon asked, dropping back below the barricade and reloading.

"I think that's a discussion for another day, with a bottle of sake." Mal managed to peer over the wall. "'Cause I'm also thinking we don't have time for this." He glanced at Zoe, who had the reader at her feet. "Which way do we need to go?"

She picked it up, checking quickly. "That way," she said, pointing behind them to a small access way.

"Well, much as I hate to kill folks who wear brown, these particular ones are trying to kill us, so I think turnabout is fair play, don't you?"

"Another grenade?" Jayne suggested, his fingers close to his vest.

"Can you get it amongst them?"

Jayne grinned, somewhat evilly. "No problem."

* * *

Hank leaned as close to the screen as possible, hardly even blinking as he studied the blips that indicated the Alliance and Reaver ships converging. Any minute now and there'd be just the one, and he knew what that meant. He'd seen the devastation on Corvus, could multiply it up in his head when factoring in the numbers on a cruiser. He shuddered.

"_Hank?"_ Kaylee's voice on the internal com.

He reached up and flicked the switch. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"_Any news?"_

"Nope. I'll let you know soon as I hear."

"_The Cap told you to hightail it if it got sticky here, didn't he?"_

Hank swallowed. "Honestly, yes. He did."

"_We ain't, are we?"_

He couldn't help smiling. "Not if I can help it."

"_Oh. Good."_ She sounded relieved, and he had to chuckle.

* * *

The nameplate announced the room to be the 'Communications Centre', and Freya nodded grimly. "Nice of them to tell us," she said softly.

Footsteps pounding down one of the adjacent corridors had her pressing Alex back into a recess, but the owners didn't pass them.

"What now?" Alex asked, feeling his heart racing.

"You keep watch out here. If you see anything, sing out."

"Sing?"

She sighed. "Or whistle. Or bang a drum, I don't really care. Just let me know."

"Oh, I think it'll probably be shouting and firing of weapons."

"That's work too." She pressed the entry plate, stepping back as the door slid open. Glancing inside it didn't appear that the room was currently occupied. "If I'm not back in five, go back and join Mal."

"You don't really expect me to do that, do you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his sister.

"Not really, no." She shrugged. "Just … be sensible, okay?"

"That I can manage."

She flashed a quick smile and slipped inside, the door closing silently behind her.

Alex took a deep breath, told himself to at least try and calm down, and attempted to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

Inside Freya looked around the room. One wall was entirely taken up with monitors, showing at least thirty views throughout the complex. There was a map next to it, if anything less complete than the one River had drawn, but detailing where each of the cameras was placed. Studying it she could see Mal and the rest of the crew moving down a corridor, and she glanced at the map. They were getting close to the hybrid containment area, and if … "_Cao_." She tugged the com from her pocket. "Mal."

There was no response, and she knew she was out of range of their boosters, and no time to even find, let alone deactivate the jammer. Instead she mentally tuned herself to her husband. _Mal._

On the screen she saw him pause, looking up as if he could see her. _What?_

_Don't go any further. Go back, take the turning on your right._

She could see him examining the palm reader.

_But that takes us the long way round. Be a lot further, Frey. Take more time._

_And just ahead there's another ambush._

_Ah._

She had to smile as he obviously relayed this information to the others, and they hurried back the way they'd come. _That's it,_ she thought as they reached the other corridor.

_Thanks, ai ren._

_Any time, zhang fu_, and she was alone in her head. She turned to the console filling the far corner, and wondered just what she was supposed to do to cut off the jamming equipment. "Wash, if you really are watching over us, like Kaylee says, any chance you can tell me?" she said very quietly.

There was no response, from a blond, Hawaiian-shirted pilot or anyone else.

"Thought not." She sighed. "I really need to pay more attention in class." Leaning forward she ran her fingers over the various dials and buttons, but nothing sprang up and said, "_Switch me off_". Then something moved. Not much, just a slight change in the surroundings, but her hand inched towards her weapon.

It was too late. Someone grabbed her gun arm, both hands wrapped hard around the muscle. She half turned, about to punch, but her wrist was seized and twisted painfully up behind her back.

"You think we didn't know you were coming?" a rough voice said in her left ear. "Saw you a mile away."

She struggled against their hands, ignoring the protestations of her tendons. "Then you know what's happening."

"Stop that," the man holding her gun arm ordered.

For a moment she stilled. "The Alliance are here. And Reavers. Called by Mara Tam."

"No idea who you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." She used her body weight to attempt to unbalance the man to her right, but a stabbing pain in her back stopped the movement.

"Now, you try that again and this knife is gonna slip between your ribs real easy," the man on her left said, and the pain increased. "Just like that."

"Chavez, don't." The second man, while not exactly sympathetic, sounded concerned. "Ramsey won't like it if she's hurt too much."

"Just enough." He twisted the knife a little, and Freya inhaled sharply. "See?"

"Thank you, gentlemen," came another voice from the doorway. "We can take her from here."

They turned, pulling Freya with them.

Two men wearing dark suits were facing them, Alex in a crumpled heap at their feet.

"Who the hell are you?" Chavez asked, wanting to draw his gun but finding it more than a little difficult with hands full of both woman and knife.

Freya had paled, her eyes seeing one thing, and her mind another. They may have looked like innocuous business men, but they were also two black holes, sucking in the light and warmth from the 'verse. "A nightmare," she whispered, unheard by the others.

"My name is irrelevant, but if it helps you can call me Mr Brown," said the man who had spoken before. "And this is Mr Grey."

The second man took something from his pocket, keeping it hidden in his blue-gloved hand.

She swallowed then looked down to her brother on the floor. "What did you do to him?"

"He's not a very good look-out. So busy watching for these New Browncoats he missed us."

Her throat dried. "Is he dead?"

"No. But he's going to have a headache. If we let him live."

Chavez had tightened his grip, and Freya could feel the bones grating in her wrist. "What the _cao_ are you talking about?" he demanded.

Mr Brown almost smiled, ignoring the outburst. "Odd, isn't it? Here we are, all working towards the same goal."

"You think?" Freya spat.

"Of course. Freeing Mara Tam from these rebels."

"You only want her back so she can control the Reavers. Make them your fighting force."

"Ultimately, perhaps. But the initial impulse is the same."

"You're insane."

"Hardly."

"You're just two men," Chavez put in, trying to take back control of the situation. "You don't think you're going to just walk around here like you own the place, do you?"

Mr Brown raised one eyebrow. "We already do."

Mr Grey lifted his hand, palm up, and they could just see a small silver box in it.

"What the _diyu's_ that?" Chavez took a step back, Freya and the other man having to follow.

"Nothing for you to worry about," Mr Brown assured him, a lie dripping from every word.

"Put it down."

"I don't think so." Mr Brown looked at Freya. "We shall, of course, attempt to stop Captain Reynolds destroying the hybrids, but if that can't be helped, at least we have you."

"Me?"

"We can breed more. Using you, Elena."

It was like ice cold water poured over her, shocking her system. "I'm not Elena."

"Elena Rostov. One of _the_ Rostovs. Our greatest success turned to our greatest failure, because you died. Only here you are." He looked almost happy.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Retinal scans, Elena." Mr Brown held up a small device. "We read you as soon as you entered the complex. Retinal scans don't lie."

"And you think I'm going to help you?"

Mr Brown shrugged. "You'll have no choice. We'll take you back to the Academy … oh, not the one that you destroyed, but one of the many others … and finish your training."

She began to struggle harder. "No."

"Perhaps this is the experiment our masters have been waiting for. A psychic, tempered by us, then finished in the cold of space, before coming home. All that experience, that wealth of knowledge, at our disposal. You really could be the greatest of us all." He reached up to touch her cheek.

That was all she was waiting for. She lunged forward, burying her teeth in his hand, feeling the glove part and blood fill her mouth. She tugged back at the same time as he pulled free, the blue membrane tearing from his fingers, leaving his hand bare, bleeding …

He stared at it, cradling it to his chest, then he threw back his head and howled, his eyes rolling back into his skull.

A wave of mental anguish poured from the injured man, and it made Freya's senses reel as she spat the fragments of blue, contaminated with flesh and blood, onto the floor. It was all she could do to watch in astonishment as the other man drew his gun, putting a bullet into the head of his companion.

He didn't even wait to see the body fall, but stepped forwards. "If I didn't need to deliver you …"

Close enough. Using the men who held her as her fulcrum, she kicked up, catching the gun and sending it spinning across the room, then in the same action pulled back, dragging her captors together, their heads meeting in a satisfying crunch.

She went down, hand reaching for one of the guns, when pain slashed through her mind, turning all her senses red. She could feel liquid running from her nose, her mouth, agony tearing the membranes down as she fell …

A gunshot. Just one, close by, and the pain stopped. Blessed relief cooled her body, and she managed to push herself to her knees, not even remembering how she came to be on the floor.

"Frey?"

Someone was at her side, helping her. She looked up, blinking tears of blood away. "Alex?"

"That's me." He smiled shakily, blood of his own leaking from his mouth and nose. "Can you stand?"

"I'll stand." Using his arm to help, she got to her feet, swaying. She looked across at the blue handed man. Literally. Alex's bullet had taken him at the wrist, and blood was pumping from the severed arteries. He was leaning against the wall, his eyes wild, and she could feel the madness pressing into her mind. Staggering slightly, she reached down and picked up her gun, pointing it at him. "For everyone," she said, firing it between his eyes. Then again, and again, until the trigger clicked on empty, and there was nothing left of the man's head but a mass of blood and bone fragments.

"Freya."

She pulled the trigger twice more, then lowered her arm as the voice penetrated. "Alex?"

"He's dead."

"You sure?"

He nodded grimly. "Pretty much."

"Good."

"He seemed to go … crazy."

"The gloves. I didn't know, but I felt it. Something to do with the gloves. Stopping them going insane."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I."

He put his hand on her arm. "Come on. We've got a job to do."

She tore her eyes from the mess in front of her. "That we have." She looked into his eyes. "You keep coming to rescue me."

Alex swallowed back the bile threatening to spew from his throat. "That's what brothers are for, Frey. And you didn't really need rescuing, did you?"

"Yes, I did," she admitted with a rueful smile. "And I'm grateful."

"Any time. I'm just glad I've got a thick head," he added, rubbing the tender lump where one of them had hit him.

Freya glanced at the console. "Enough of this." Taking one of the ordinary explosive charges off her belt she bent down and placed it under the central panel.

"Wait. What about them?" Alex asked, indicating Chavez and his partner.

"Leave them."

"No."

"We don't have time to argue."

"Then we won't." He grabbed Chavez by the shirt and dragged him towards the door.

She glared at her brother. "Shit." Silently cursing him, she took hold of the other man's ankle and pulled him unceremoniously out into the corridor. "Since when did you grow a conscience?" she asked.

"Since when did you lose yours?"

Their eyes locked, but Freya faltered first.

"You're right," she said quietly. "But if they come back to kill us, I won't think twice."

"I know."

Hurrying back into the room she went down onto her heels and pressed the button on the charge. Immediately the red light began to blink. "Time to go and make some mayhem, don't you think?" she asked, standing up.

"The hybrids?"

"The hybrids."

Thrusting the other men's guns into the waist of her pants, she strode out, reloading as she went.

Alex glanced back at the bodies, taking a step away from them. Something skittered under his foot and he looked down. It was the device the second man with blue hands had been holding. Anger flared through him and he brought his heel down on it, grinding it into the floor until only fragments remained. Then he followed his sister, the door sliding to behind him.

A minute later a dull boom echoed through the complex, and dust sifted down from the ceiling.


	32. Chapter 32

The explosion echoed round the complex, setting up vibration and counter-vibration in the walls and ceiling. Mal brushed the light dust from his coat and glanced at Zoe. "You think … Frey?"

"I imagine so, sir."

_Yes, me_, he heard without the use of his ears.

There was a slight red tinge to her thoughts which he associated with pain. _You okay, xin gan?_

_Shiny. Just somewhat … bruised._

He knew she was lying a little. _You sure?_

_Trust me. My good looks aren't affected. And before you ask, Alex is fine too._

_With you to look after him, I'm not surprised._ He looked up at his first mate. "Yeah. Freya." He grinned and thumbed the comlink. "Hank. You there?"

"_Not sure where else I'd be."_

"Is the jammer down?"

There was a pause while he obviously checked. _"It's down."_

"Then get that stuff sent before the Alliance take it into their heads to do the same."

On the bridge of Serenity, Hank peered up into the sky. "Oh, I think they're going to be too busy for that," he said. "Looks like the fight's started."

There wasn't much to see, just occasional flares in the sky as Alliance two-man gunships were taken down, EMP pulses scrambling their onboard systems. One had fallen close by, exploding into bright glory on the Valley bottom, and he'd said a brief prayer for the men on board.

Deep below the ruins of the Abbey, Mal closed his eyes briefly. "Just … get it done. Then get my boat out of there."

"_Mal –"_

"No time for discussion. Not telling you to leave, 'cause I know you won't. Just get Serenity someplace safe so you can come back for us later." He smiled a little. "Besides, you might need to perform a heroic rescue."

"_How heroic?"_

Out of the corner of his eye Mal could see Zoe shake her head at her husband, exasperation written clearly on her otherwise stoic face. "I'll let you know. Do the job, Hank."

"_Yeah."_ The comlink clicked off.

No-one spoke for a moment, each seeing the battle going on above them in their mind's eye, then Dillon asked softly, "How far?"

Mal consulted the hand reader. "It twists a lot, but …" He looked at River, who was staring off into the darkness. "Albatross? We got time?"

"Tick tock, goes the clock."

"Right. I take it we're gonna have to hurry."

She didn't answer, but her dark eyes turned on him, seeming bottomless in the odd light.

He nodded. "Then we'd better get going."

* * *

"Kaylee, I'm gonna need your help." Hank spoke into the com, then jumped as a hand was placed on his shoulder. "Wah!"

"Sorry," the young mechanic said. "I was coming up here anyway. "What do you need my help with?"

Hank had his hand pressed to his chest. "Restarting my heart would be good. But mostly we gotta get that message out."

Her eyes widened. "They did it?"

"First part. Jammer's down."

Kaylee slid into the seat next to him. "Ready," she said, her fingers skimming over the board.

He grinned, even though the skin was tight around his eyes. He knew they didn't have the equipment to broadwave to the 'verse, not like Mal had done after discovering Miranda, but at least they could send the formula for AntiPax to everyone they knew, maybe a couple of hundred Cortex addresses, and they'd pass it on. Like a pebble thrown into the centre of an ocean, eventually the ripples would reach the edge.

Thinking of Miranda brought up an image he'd tried to quash many a time, of Zoe's husband sitting on this very bridge, a Reaver harpoon smashing through the window. He'd never met the man, but his active imagination had managed to supply something bone-chillingly accurate for him to contemplate.

"Hank?" Kaylee's voice brought him back.

"Yeah. Sorry." He leaned forward. "You sure your rerouting's gonna work?"

"Positive. It'll toss our signal around so no-one's gonna know who sent this, 'cept those we want to." She glanced at him. "And you ain't gonna die, Hank."

He jerked. "What?"

"I know you're thinking about Wash, and the last time we did something like this. It ain't gonna happen."

"It's just … Alliance and Reavers … Zoe's not exactly had the best of luck with husbands where they're concerned."

"She's only had the one. I mean, besides you."

His lips twitched. "I'd kinda like to keep it that way."

Kaylee grinned at him. "Come on, then. Let's let all those good folks know about this."

"Okay, boss."

She nodded positively then bent over the console.

* * *

Above on Iolanthe, the bridge crew were staring at each other. They could feel vibration through their boots, but no-one knew what to do.

Greg Bennett ran onto the bridge, his second in command, Tyzack, at his heels. "Come on!" he yelled. "Do something!"

"I …" Bradshaw could hardly speak. "I don't know …"

"It's Reavers, you imbecile," Bennett said, pointing to the main viewscreen where half the stars were blotted out by the stern of a ship.

"But … they don't exist."

Bennett shook his head. "Right. So it's an optical illusion they're trying to bore into the hull."

Bradshaw was whitefaced. "What do we do?"

"Don't you train for things like this?"

"Reavers?" Bradshaw laughed, almost hysterically. "Pirates, yes. But we're an armed Federal vessel. Who's likely to attack us?"

Bennett took a deep breath, tightly suppressing the urge to shoot this idiot. "Can you get your main armaments onto the Reaver ship? Blow it up?"

One of the other officers, a young woman with flaming red hair caught up under her cap, said, "No. And if we could, with them attached, it would probably take us with it."

He half-smiled at her. "Name?"

"Ensign Carey, sir."

"First name?"

"Amanda."

Bennett nodded and turned to Tyzack. "Terry, take Amanda here and go to the armoury and break out as many weapons as you can find. Make sure everyone's armed to the teeth."

"On it, Greg." He ran out, Ensign Carey glued to his back.

"You …" Bennett pointed at Bradshaw. "Do you have emergency explosive bolts on your airlock doors?"

"Of course."

"Then get them primed, and I'll tell you when to blow them. In the meantime, pull all your men back away from the hull. We need to make this as difficult as possible for those _bian tai si gui_ …"

* * *

"That's it," Hank said, exhaling heavily in relief. "Okay, better get her warmed up." He began to flick various switches.

Kaylee stared at him. "You said we weren't leaving."

"No, we're not. At least, not as such." He motioned overhead. "But one way or the other, whoever wins up there, they're gonna be down here before too much longer, and I ain't entirely sure the Alliance are gonna be that much friendlier than Reavers, so I'm gonna actually do what Mal ordered for once, and get us hidden."

The look of angry belligerence faded on her face. "Where were you thinking of?"

He tapped the screen showing the plan of Serenity Valley and the outlying region. "There's a cave up in the hills here. It ain't big, but I reckon I can get her inside without scratching the paint."

Kaylee got up and studied it. "You won't be able to drop down from the top," she commented.

"Nope. And that's another reason we'll be safer. We'll have to get in through the overhangs."

She bit her lip. "Internal gravity might not like it. Won't be going fast, it'll mean some fancy manoeuvring. Could take her a while to catch up."

"I know. You'd better warn your in-laws."

"Think maybe I should." A thought struck her. "What about Columbine?"

Hank glanced out of the window at the ship sitting next to them. "Can't fly two boats, Kaylee. Even I ain't that good."

"Sure you are." She grinned and left Hank getting the Firefly ready. She headed towards the stairs, but glanced into the galley first. "Hey, Regan," she said, stepping down. "I was just gonna come look for you."

"Oh?" The older woman looked up from the cup she was nursing. "Sorry. I was miles away."

"Thinking on Simon?"

"Mmn." She roused herself. "I made some tea. Do you want some?"

"Maybe later, but right now we're on the move."

Regan sat upright. "Excuse me?"

"We're taking Serenity someplace safe. You gonna want to let Gabriel know we could be in for a bit of a rough ride."

"I won't be able to."

"What?"

"I won't be able to tell him anything."

A cold thrill of suspicion raced up Kaylee's spine, and she glared. "Regan … where's your husband?"

Regan couldn't answer, just clutched the mug even tighter, trying to get some feeling of warmth in them as she remembered the last time she'd seen him.

"_Gabriel, no." She looked around the bay, wanting to find someone to stop him, but there was only Kaylee left, and she was busy strapping down something in one of the cages, concentrating too hard to take notice of them._

"_I have to. To make this right." He looked into her face, holding her head between his hands, and she could feel the wedding band pressing into her cheek. "I love you."_

"_I love you too."_

_They kissed, fiercely, passionately, perhaps for the first proper time in years, then Gabriel was gone, slipping out of the cargo bay doors into Hera's light before another word could be said._

"Regan?"

* * *

"Not much farther," Mal commented. "Couple more turns and –"

The comlink buzzed.

"Maybe we shouldn't have unjammed the signal, sir," Zoe said as he pulled it from his coat pocket, silencing it with a rough finger.

"What?" Mal demanded, keeping his voice low. "We're kinda busy here, and if you're just calling to let me you got the message out I –"

"_Gabriel's gone."_

"Do you mind repeatin' that?" Mal asked, deceptively still.

"_Gabriel's gone. Regan says it's something to do with stopping Quintana getting Simon."_

Mal stared into nothing, and the others waited for the inevitable. He didn't have too strong a hold on his temper at the best of times, and this was most definitely not one of them. But he surprised them. "I can understand that," he said finally. "Man wants to take care of his son. Prob'ly not the best way of doing it, but I conjure he ain't exactly thinking too straight at the moment." He glanced at Simon. "Looks like he really does care."

"I suppose it does," the young doctor said.

Lifting the comlink again, Mal spoke into it. "Hank, you just get my boat outta there. We'll find Gabriel, keep him from doing something stupid."

"_Going now, Mal. Wave me when you want that rescue."_ There was an audible click.

"Mal, if my father is down here we have to find him." Simon said urgently. "He's a very sick man. There's no knowing if – or when – he's going to have another episode."

"Yeah. And like I said, we'll find him." He turned to his first mate. "Zoe, you go with the others. Me and Simon'll go hunting his Pa."

"Sir, don't you think it would be better if it was just one of us went to look?"

"Nope. Mainly because I know Simon won't be happy unless he comes along, and I'm not letting him go alone."

"Then I'm coming." She began to unstrap the belt of V59 canisters from her waist.

"Whoa, there, you hold on a moment. You're staying with them." He nodded towards the rest of his raiding party. "They need you."

"So do you, sir. And you've admitted, more than once, that I'm the only reason you're still alive." She handed the belt to Dillon. "And we're wasting time," she added as he opened his mouth to argue.

"At least when I was a sergeant I could court-martial you," Mal muttered. "Fine. You're with us." He turned to the others. "Get those hybrids. That's the main task. If you manage that, come looking for us. If you don't …" His lips tightened. "If you don't, find Frey and Alex, get them out of here. Hank'll hightail it back soon as you call, and you get away."

"Mal, that ain't right," Jayne growled.

"Maybe, but that's my orders. If those things hatch, we don't have a chance in hell of stopping 'em, and I ain't gonna lose people in something futile. Had too much of that before." He held up a hand. "Alliance is up there. They might have a better chance. So you do what I say, _dong mah_?"

There was silence, then Jayne nodded. "Yeah, Mal."

"Good." He looked at River. "Any idea which direction I need to go in, albatross?" he asked softly.

She concentrated, trying to push past the interference from Mara Tam, through the concern of her brother, the anger emanating from the captain, the … She pointed. "That way," she said, adding, "I think."

Mal smiled a little. "Solid wall, River."

Glaring at him, she looked down at the reader in his palm. "There," she said, stabbing the screen.

"_Ting hao_," he said approvingly. "Just need to go back aways to the last crosswalk. Best be going, too."

Dillon nodded. "_Hong yun_."

"Luck?" Mal chuckled humourlessly. "Don't believe in it. 'Less it saves my neck." He raised a hand in salute, then strode back the way they'd come. Zoe and Simon followed without a word.

"Come on," Dillon said, buckling the V59 around his waist. "It's not far." He gripped his gun tighter, and walked forward, Breed at his heels.

River didn't move, her forehead creased, head tipped to one side. She could feel her, so close, reaching out and touching her mind with fingers that burned.

Jayne took a few paces, then realised she wasn't with him. "Riv?"

"I can almost see her," River whispered, to herself more than him.

He rejoined her, his body almost touching hers. "Who?"

Her voice echoed through his mind, odd-tasting and distant, as if she couldn't trust the words to come out the right way. _I have to get to Mara. Stop her. She's controlling the Reavers, and if I don't, they won't stop until everyone up there and down here is meat._

His blue eyes burned. "You ain't going alone."

_Then come with me._

"Moonbrain…" He glanced along the corridor.

_They have enough. Freya and Alex are just ahead._

He stood motionless, his skill at tracking allowing him to almost blend into the wall. "Where is she?" he breathed. "Can you find her?"

_Yes._

"Then you lead, I'll follow."

She smiled at him, placing one slim hand on his cheek, then slipped back down the corridor like a wraith. He followed his wife.


	33. Chapter 33

Freya lifted a finger to her lips in the universal sign to keep quiet, and Alex nodded, watching her move silently forward to the next corner, her gun ready, slack taken out of the trigger …

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" she asked in semi-irritation.

Dillon and Breed materialised.

"I'd really rather not," the older man said, somewhat dryly. "And you wouldn't have shot me."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because I still owe you money."

She seemed to think for a moment. "True."

Alex looked past them. "Where are the others?"

Dillon shrugged. "Mal, Zoe and Simon have gone looking for Gabriel. He's taken it into his head to come down and face Quintana alone."

His forehead tightened. "Does he need our help?"

"No. We're to deal with the hybrids. Mal's orders."

"What about Jayne and River?"

"They're just behind us." Dillon half-turned, then took three steps back down the corridor. "They were just here. Where the hell have they gone?"

"It's all right," Freya said, sighing slightly. "They're after Mara."

An icy chill settled into the pit of his stomach. "You can feel that?"

"Yes."

"But you couldn't feel it was us around the corner."

She smiled, just a lift to the corners of her mouth. "It's … complicated."

"You just wanted to scare us," Breed added. "And you did."

"Come on," Freya said. "No time to waste idly chatting."

She led the way forwards, stopping them before they got to the next intersection. She held up one finger, then pointed forward, then to herself. One guard, she was saying, and she'd take care of him.

Dillon shook his head, about to whisper, talk her out of it, but she'd already gone, diving around the corner into a forward roll that meant the two bullets meant for her body went over her head instead, and then bounced lightly up onto the balls of her feet, her gun pressed into the guard's neck.

"One more twitch and you won't be seeing another sunrise."

The guard's eyes widened. No more than twenty or so, he suddenly had his entire life story flashing in front of him, and it seemed very boring, and about to come to an abrupt and very painful end. "Who … who are you?"

"Not the right question."

"What do you want?"

She smiled and tapped her pistol lightly against his jugular. "That's better. Turn around." He obeyed immediately. "Now open it," she commanded. "Or …" She let his imagination fill in the rest of the threat.

"Yes, yes. Whatever you say." With trembling fingers he managed to type in the security code and the door hissed open.

She grunted. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

"What?" Breed wanted to know, the men joining her.

"The date of surrender at Serenity Valley," she explained, then shrugged. "Something about being an Independent. Mal uses it on the safe we've got."

Alex's lips twitched. "I think you'd better get him to change it."

"Oh, I intend to." She leaned again on the New Browncoat. "Thanks," she murmured in his ear.

The man licked his lips. "Just don't kill me."

"Not ready to die for your cause, then?" She exhaled a single bark of laughter and hit him on the back of the head with her gun, none too gently. Her back was still hurting, and she could feel fresh blood from the stab wound making her shirt stick to her skin, pulling each time she moved, so she was in no mood to be polite.

He slid to the floor, nothing more than a sack of unconscious bones.

"Remind me not to piss you off," Alex breathed.

"I'll try." She walked into the room beyond. "_Wuh de mah_."

"What is it?" He followed her, his feet staggering to a halt at the sight in front of him. "Merciful Buddha."

The cavern was huge, roughly cut out from the bedrock with no time or inclination to make it look pretty.

"No wonder they needed all that equipment," Breed said, his face white.

"Good God, how many of them are there?" Dillon breathed, aware of eyes turning on him.

Freya stared at the creatures suspended in their plastic and metal wombs, lined up and filling the space almost entirely. Most had their eyes open, glaring at her, even through the amniotic fluid, and she could feel their consciousness battering at her walls, the normal psychic madness of a Reaver enhanced by Mara Tam's DNA. "More than we imagined."

"A thousand? More?"

"I don't know."

"And they're fully grown."

"What did you expect? Babies?" Freya pulled her belt from her waist.

"No, I …" He stopped, realised he had expected just that, and was disgusted with himself. Of course they'd be adults – had to be, what with all the growth enhancers and cell replicators those New Browncoats had obtained. "Sorry."

"Don't be." She tugged the first canister from its mount. "But we have to destroy them."

One of them howled, the sound taken up by the others, crashing through the cavern in a liquid wave.

"Do we have enough?" Dillon was mirroring her actions, removing the canisters, his hands sweating slightly.

"Pack the regular charges against the outer wall, along from the door. That should bring enough down to block their exit, give the V59 time to burn them out."

"How long do you want the timers set for?"

"Two minutes."

He stared at her. "Frey, that's not going to be long enough for us to get far enough away. Not with this amount of explosive. We could be buried too."

She gestured up towards the display above each of the cocoons. "Look."

His eyes followed. "Dear God …"

The numbers were ticking down, very quickly.

"It'll barely be short enough."

"Frey –"

"Come on." She twisted the top on the first of her canisters, pushing the green button twice. She took a breath and depressed the red. The light on top began to glow. Placing it at the base of one of the wombs, she ran down the narrow gap between them, aware of the eyes on her through amniotic fluid.

* * *

Mal stumbled, then righted himself.

"Sir?" Zoe was at his side, her arm around him.

"It's okay. Just … they've got to the hybrids."

"That's good."

"Yeah." He didn't say anything, just looked into her eyes.

Her lips tightened.

Simon, standing behind them, felt excluded somehow, as if they were communicating on some level he had no way of understanding, but could feel as a lump of hard stone in the base of his belly.

* * *

"Done," Dillon said, waiting by the door.

"Me too," Breed said, having set the conventional charges against the walls.

"Time to go, then," Freya said, glancing once more at the clock above the nearest womb. The occupant scraped hard at the plastic with hooked fingers, nails tearing so little trails of blood hung in the fluid.

They left the cavern, the door sliding closed behind them, and Dillon fired his gun directly into the lock, disabling it.

This time it was Freya who grabbed the unconscious guard, dragging him with her until Alex and Breed took him, one under each shoulder, barely slowing as they ran hard down the corridor.

Dillon could hear Freya counting down as their feet pounded along the corridor, but she'd reached zero and nothing happened. Then he realised, and all the blood leached from his face. It was the hybrids clock she was echoing, and it had just run out.

* * *

Three … two … one …

Maybe there should have been a clarion call from hell, or at the very least a drumroll, but instead there was a delicate beep and a click, and the amniotic fluid began to drain from the front row of artificial wombs.

The creatures inside beat their fists against the plastiglass, their entire beings consumed with the need to get out, to eat, to kill, to destroy.

* * *

"Time's up," Freya muttered.

Dillon half-turned, expecting to see a horde of the creatures about to overwhelm him, mouths wide, claws ready to rip his body into pieces. Then a deep rumble sped towards them, twisting the corridor, the floor rising and throwing them about as if they were dolls, deafened by noise and blinded by grit and dust as the light panels went out.

* * *

Inside the cavern, the explosion from the V59 and the regular charges had done what Freya hoped, bringing down huge chunks of rock to block the exit irrevocably. More had fallen on some of the cocoons, smashing the occupants into bloody messes.

A few managed to clamber free from their containment, ripping wet flesh on broken plastic, but most were trapped as the V59 vapourised those closest to the canisters, throwing corrosive chemicals high into the air to rain down on them.

As it hit metal it began to burn, eating through and propagating itself, like a living being, thriving and growing, spreading like the wildfire it was. Those that had already escaped tore at their own skin to try and stop it, while the rest of the hybrids boiled in their metal and plastic wombs, howling their insanity into the inferno as their flesh peeled from their bones.

* * *

"Riv?"

"Yes."

"Shiny."

"But …"

She took his hand, and he could feel her trembling.

* * *

Mal could feel the vibration through his boots, and a tiny portion of the tension that had built to almost unbearable levels inside him dissipated.

"It's done?" Simon asked softly.

"It's done," Mal agreed.

"Thank God."

"Yeah." He touched the gold cross resting on his chest, then opened his mind. _Frey?_ There was nothing, and the tension doubled, tripled, until he thought it was going to overwhelm him. _Frey!_

* * *

Breed rolled onto his chest, coughing so hard he was surprised not to see his lungs on the ground in front of him. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, he shook his head to try and clear the ringing in his ears. After a moment, spitting dust out of his mouth and blinking hard, he looked around. "Dillon?" he managed to call.

There was a groan and an apparition sat up, grey dust cascading from him in a cloud.

"Dillon!" Breed repeated, scuttling over to him and feeling sharp points of rock digging into his skin.

"I'm okay," his lover assured him, wiping at his mouth. "You?"

"My hearing's none too good, but I seem to be in one piece."

"What about Freya and Alex?"

"I don't know."

They stared at each other for a heartbeat, then Dillon said, "Help me up."

Staggering to their feet, they stared at the mass of stone filling the corridor, huge blocks that would take expert equipment to move.

Breed whispered, "You don't think –"

"No," Dillon said sharply. "No. They're not under there."

"No, of course not." He looked around. "There must have been a fault in the rock," he added, needing to say something rather than envisage his friend lying crushed and broken.

"Probably."

There was the sound of someone swearing, badly, in Chinese, and they saw Alex appear in the gloom, supporting himself on the wall as he ignored the blood running freely from a cut above his eye. "Where's Freya?" he asked, seeing the two men standing by the rockfall. "Where's my sister?"


	34. Chapter 34

Time seemed to hang by a thread in the 'verse as the three men searched for Freya.

Alex nearly had a heart attack when he saw a hand sticking out from beneath the collapsed wall, and dropped to his knees, narrowly avoiding the pool of dust-clogged blood that was spreading from under the rocks. It only took a moment to ascertain it was a man, probably the young guard they'd tried to save, but it was the longest moment of Alex's life.

As he climbed slowly back to his feet, a silent prayer on his lips, he heard Breed yell.

"Over here!"

He ran back down the corridor, reaching the other man at the same time as Dillon. "Freya?"

She was laying on her side, wedged against the wall, her body half-twisted towards them.

"Is she … alive?"

Breed was checking her pulse. "Yes."

"Thank God." He paused. "I must have passed her. And I didn't even see."

"Help me," Breed requested. "We need to lay her out flat."

"What if she's got internal injuries?" Dillon nevertheless had gone down onto his heels, ready to assist.

"One way or the other we can't leave her here. And I don't think we're going to be able to find a doctor, do you?"

"But if we aggravate something, make it worse -"

"Are you arguing?" Her faint voice seemed to be sent from heaven.

"Freya?" Alex was next to her head in a moment, brushing dust and tiny fragments of stone from her face. "Are you all right?"

Her eyes fluttered, finally opening. "No?" She shifted slightly, and a wave of pain crossed her features. "Oh, most definitely no."

"Where does it hurt? Most, I mean?" Breed asked.

She was breathing shallowly, trying to control it. "My … my leg."

Breed looked at the others. "Help me," he said again.

Between them the three men tilted her hips back so she was lying flat, each supporting her as they did so. Breed straightened her leg, knowing he couldn't begin to understand the agony biting deep into her face. She stifled a groan. "_Cao_."

"It's okay, Frey," Alex muttered, her hand seeking and finding his, holding it in a death grip. "We're here."

Breed gently palpated the area. "Looks like you gave your knee one hell of a whack on the wall," he said, feeling liquid coating his fingers. "And you're bleeding."

She tried to squirm backwards, away from the pain. "Yeah."

"Are you a medic?" Alex asked, surprised.

"No. Just picked up a couple of things in my rebellious youth." Breed's mouth tightened. "Damn. It's not stopping."

"Here." Alex quickly pulled his shirt off, turning it inside out. "Use this."

Quickly the older man employed it as a cross between a tourniquet and a bandage, wrapping it tightly around Freya's leg. She couldn't help the moan grinding from her throat.

"Sorry." Breed tied it off.

"Not your fault." She glanced down at the makeshift dressing and added, "Help me up."

"No." Alex shook his head firmly. "No way. We need to find a stretcher."

"I can use you as supports, but we have to get out of here as …" Her eyes closed and she bit down on her lip hard enough to make it bleed. "… as fast as we can," she finished.

"Why?"

"Because if there's even a single crack in that wall, if metal cuts through it in any way, the V59's going to use it like a wick," Dillon explained, his face set.

"You mean –"

He indicated the metalwork at intervals along the wall. "We don't want to be here if that happens."

Freya levered herself into a sitting position, panting slightly, her face sheened with sweat. "Then we'd better get moving, don't you think?" She held her arms up.

* * *

River closed her eyes.

Jayne felt his heart freeze. "Moonbrain?"

"It's okay," she said, looking at him. "She's hurt, but …" Her eyes widened. "Jayne." She grabbed his arm. "He's after Simon."

"Yeah, but that's why Mal's going to find him, make him go back to the ship."

"No. Not my father. Emil Quintana."

"When?"

"Now."

Jayne pulled his comlink from one of the many pockets on his pants and pressed the button. "Mal." He paused. "Gorramit, Mal, can you hear me?"

River put her hand over his. "Too far from the boosters. Too much rock."

"Shit." He narrowed his eyes. "Can you tell Mal? Speak to him?" He tapped his temple.

River couldn't look more incensed. "No. Mara's not letting me."

"Frey?"

Now the anger was tinged with worry. "Not her either."

"You mean she's –"

"No. Alive. Moving. But Mara won't let me talk to her." Her dark eyes fixed his. "Find him. Save my brother, Jayne."

"What about Frey?"

"Alex is there. _You_ have to find Mal, stop them taking Simon."

He understood. Simon was blood, no matter how River looked on Freya as her surrogate mother. "Any idea where?" A plan of the complex unfolded in his mind, one area lit from within. "Got it," he said, proud as always of his wife's talents. "Close too."

"Run."

He chuckled, but there was little humour in it. "You be careful, you hear?"

"I will." Reaching up she touched his lips with hers, her tongue sketching his mouth for a moment, then was gone.

The big man, ex-mercenary that he was, allowed himself to taste her for less than a second before he loped off.

* * *

"Captain." Zoe watched him lean on the wall. "Sir." He was concentrating so hard it was as if his ears had been disconnected. "Mal."

At that he looked up. "She's okay, Zoe. They did what they went for, and she's okay."

She'd seen him in many moods, from euphoric to almost suicidally depressed, but this made her heart leap into her throat. The sheer relief on his face, the change from the possibility that he'd lost his reason for living, to the knowledge that she was still with him, was almost embarrassing. Then it was gone, and he was Malcolm Reynolds again, with a job to do. "That's … good, sir."

"Yeah." He glanced at Simon, who appeared to be studying the backs of his hands. "You still with us, doc?" he asked.

"Yes, Mal," the young man said, a soft smile on his lips, as always impressed by the captain's ability to hide his true emotions, if only from himself. "I'm here."

"Then let's go find your dad."

They hurried down the corridor, not encountering anyone, friend or foe, a situation Zoe remarked on.

"Think the Reavers are up there?" she asked.

"More like the Alliance are down here."

"Ubermann?"

"Probably."

A noise echoed from one side of the corridor to the other, and Mal pressed himself against the wall. Not even looking at Zoe, he jabbed with two fingers to the darkened passageway a little further ahead. She gripped her Mare's Leg more firmly, slipping silently to check. Her brows drew down as there was nothing and no-one. She looked back, shaking her head, even though her war-trained senses said there had to be. He indicated they should move forward, but very carefully.

At the next junction Mal released the safety on his pistol, then peered around, almost head-butting Jayne.

"Cap."

"Gorramit, Jayne, I nearly shot you!"

"Where's Simon?"

"He's back there."

"Where?"

There was a stupefied hush, then …"Zoe, where the hell's Simon?"

She stared at her captain, then all three ran back down the corridor, but there was no sign of the young man.

"Gorramit, what the hell's going on here?" Mal demanded to know. "People can't just wander off like this!"

Zoe grunted and dropped to her heels, picking up Simon's gun. "I don't think he went on his own accord."

"He hasn't. Quintana's got 'im," Jayne said succinctly. _River_.

She melted into his mind. _Simon?_

_I couldn't get to him in time. Sorry, Riv._

_Jia yan will find him._

_You got a lotta faith in the Cap, girl._

_Always._

_I'm heading back to you._

"Mal, I gotta go. River's going after Mara."

His captain nodded. "Yeah. Better take Zoe with –"

"No. You gotta find Simon and Gabriel. She's countin' on you." The big man didn't wait for a response, just ran, gone before Mal could formulate a suitably scathing reply.

"Huh," was all he could come out with.

"I don't like being this separated," Zoe said.

He turned back to her. "Me neither, and it's gonna get worse." He pulled the last booster from his pack, activating it without extending the spikes. Pressing the button on the comlink, he said, "Hank, is Kaylee with you?"

His pilot sounded surprised to hear him. _"Mal? You okay?"_

"Shiny. Is Kaylee with you?"

"_No, she's with Mrs Tam. Do you need her?"_

"No, no. You leave her there."

"_I'm confused. Why did you ask for her?"_

"Can you get a reading off Simon's transmitter?"

"_What? Why?"_

"Hank, you keep arguing and we'll be here 'til either the Reavers or the Alliance get us, and I don't relish either prospect. Simon's transmitter. Is it working?"

There was a slight pause. _"Yeah. He's moving. Looks like level four."_

Mal glanced up to the plate above his head. Level five. "Looks like they're heading up. Can you patch his signal down to the palm reader?"

"_I think so. You still got one of the boosters?"_

"That's how come I can talk to you."

"_Oh, yeah. Right. Keep it with you and you'll be able to… there."_

The palm reader in Zoe's hand beeped, and a tiny red light appeared on the screen.

"Got it." He breathed a sigh of … if not relief, then at least a reprieve. "My boat safe?"

"_Yeah, Mal. We're buttoned up tighter'n a virgin's pants."_

"You need to get out more." He saw Zoe's lips twitch. "Okay. Any sign of the Reavers on the ground yet?"

"_Nope. They're still fighting as far as I can see. Mal, is Simon missing or something?"_

"You just keep Kaylee occupied, _dong mah_?"

The tone in his voice obviously transmitted well. _"Yes, Mal." _The com disconnected.

"I'm surprised he's still carrying it," Zoe said. "The transmitter."

"You really think Kaylee was going to let him go anywhere without it? After last time?" Mal countered, putting the com back in his pocket and sliding the booster into the backpack. "You keep trying to find Gabriel," he added. "I'll get Simon back."

"If Quintana does have him, Gabriel's likely to end up in the same place."

"Yeah, and more'n likely get himself shot. See if you can't catch him before he does."

"You're going to need this," Zoe said, handing the palm reader over.

"Yeah. Don't get lost."

"I don't have that problem, sir."

"Are you suggesting I get mislaid easy?"

"No, sir. Just remembering Ogden …"

"That's … cruel." He glanced down at the red dot, still moving slowly, then back up at his oldest friend. "Try not to run into anyone liable to fire those gas pellets at you. Seeing as Simon's got the antidotes in his pocket."

She'd read the concern under his words. "I'll try not to." Checking her gun once more, she ran off down the side passageway.

* * *

Simon groaned. His head hurt, a pounding ache across his forehead, but centred mainly above his left ear. He was being dragged, at least from the vibration running up his legs.

"So you're awake? Good. I'm tired of lugging you around." A man's voice, hard and without pity.

He felt himself dumped unceremoniously against a wall, the motion making him feel sick. "What … where …" His voice sounded faint, far away. He opened his eyes, fighting the nausea, but everything was blurred.

A hand under his jaw forced his chin up. "I didn't hit you that hard."

Simon pulled away. "Who are you?"

"My name's Ramsey. And you're the prize, at least according to the professor."

"Quintana?"

"So you know." There was an amused tone. "What else is in that head of yours?"

"Only that name." He wondered why he'd lied, then felt the other man lean closer, his breath hot on his cheek.

"Not that it matters. But if Quintana didn't need you, I'd show you just how I feel about you bringing the Alliance down on us."

"And the Reavers?"

Ramsey laughed. "No need to worry about that."

Simon shuddered. They believed Mara would save them, stop the Reavers before they could feast. Except River had been sure she'd called them deliberately, and had no intention of not letting them do what they wanted with the New Browncoats, and anyone else in their way.

_Simon. Hold on. He's coming._

He looked around, unable to focus. _River?_ he thought finally, but she was gone.

"Come on," Ramsey said, taking tight hold of his arm, and pulling him forwards. "You've got an appointment."

* * *

She was close. Very close. There was a tangible feeling of amusement coming from inside one of the rooms ahead, and it was grating like a knife across a china plate. There had been the briefest of moments when she'd wavered, and River had been able to touch Simon's mind, but that had gone now. All that was left was the satisfaction.

River walked forward slowly, trying to centre herself, concentrating on the task in hand, but it was hard, so very hard.

Then suddenly she saw the painting in her mind's eye, the one she'd done when she was carrying Caleb, and heard Freya's voice, although she wasn't sure whether it was real or she imagined it. _Control_, the older woman said. _We're here._ And she realised it didn't matter.

Mal and Freya, Ethan and Jesse, Hank, Zoe, Ben, Kaylee, Bethie, Hope, Simon, Jayne … Jayne. Her Jayne. Her rock. Her place where she could stand and move the 'verse. She glanced down at the tattoo around her finger, unending, just like his adoration of her, and when she lifted her head again she wasn't River, the fractured girl who escaped the Academy. She was the crazy psychic assassin with a family who loved her.

She stopped outside the door. There was a name tacked on it, a simple piece of card that somehow belied the menace of the occupant.

_**395MT**_**. **

Experiment number three hundred and ninety five. Mara Tam.


	35. Chapter 35

She was inside. Her twin. Torn from her family and perverted into something warped and mentally misshapen.

River stared at the door a moment longer, then slowly took off one of the belts crossed over her chest. She laid it on the ground, leaning her rifle against the wall. No sense in asking for trouble, she told herself, nor handing Mara weapons that might be turned against her. She'd keep one gun, though. Just in case.

The lock on the door was another keypad, and for a second she considered just shooting it, but then the code was in her mind, placed there with a delicacy she had to admire. Touching the numbers, the door slid open and she stepped inside.

The room was just four bare grey walls, but the cot that served as a bed was full of toys, all sitting facing her expectantly. As was the young woman in the absolute centre of the floor.

"I've been waiting," Mara Tam said. "I knew you'd come."

"It was inevitable."

"Yes."

River took a moment to study her genetic sister and realised she'd been right. A mirror image but distorted, twisted beyond normal reality. Mara may have been technically a year or so younger, but physically they were twins. Her hair was longer, reaching almost to the small of her back in lank tendrils, and she didn't have the overlay of delicate muscles River had. But it was the eyes, the window to the soul as one Earth-that-was philosopher had once put it … they were the immediate giveaway.

Mara's eyes were insane. The pupils were almost the entire size of the iris, black and unforgiving, radiating fury. And they made the mental contact even stronger as the dark twin attacked her mind.

Even in her most terrible moments, when she took out the Maidenhead on Beaumonde, or sliced a room full of Reavers into cat food, River had never felt rage like this. It battered at her defences, trying to find a crack, to force through and take her down with it. It scared her, but the adrenaline rush that pulsed through her body allowed her to push back on the mental assault, and she lifted her chin in defiance.

Mara was impressed. "You're stronger than I expected."

"Did you think I'd let you see the real me?" River countered.

"No. But then, no-one's seen the real me, either."

"Not even Quintana?"

"Of course not." She gestured to the dolls, to the child-size tea set on the floor. "That's what he sees. A child. To be nurtured. Loved." The last word had disgust dripping from it. "He's a fool. And very soon he'll pay."

Mara put her head onto one side, and for once River saw what the rest of the crew had, when she'd first arrived on Serenity, broken, streaked through with hidden danger. No wonder they'd tried to sell her, put her off the ship, been afraid of her.

River shook her head. "The hybrids are gone," she said softly. "They're dead. All of them."

"I know." Mara barely blinked. "I felt them die."

"Don't you care?"

"No. Why should I? They were tainted. Impure. My friends are all I need." She hummed in anticipation, and glanced up towards the ceiling, perhaps seeing beyond to the battle going on above the atmosphere. "They're going to take me with them. And we'll have such fun. We'll play until the streets run red."

"But they were flesh of your flesh –"

"Ripped from me. Taken against my will." Mara took a step closer. "Why do you feel the need to try and talk to me? Implore me to reason? In your place I'd kill you where you stand."

"What they did, what Quintana did, was wrong, but they were still your family."

"Like your son?" She smiled twistedly. "Perhaps I should send my playmates to Lazarus. Imagine the feast they could make of your friends. Your _children_. It would take just a suggestion …"

It was in that moment River understood. There was no option. No coming back. She went to draw her gun, but Mara had a speed that surprised her, and her mental walls gave nothing of her intentions away. She slammed the back of her fist against River's wrist, the weapon spinning away into the far corner of the room, then Mara was past, running out into the corridor, her laugh raising goosebumps on everyone who heard it as it rang through the complex.

* * *

"_Gou niang yang duh_," Jayne breathed, tossing the man he'd found waiting for him into the wall and running on.

* * *

River was after her immediately, pausing only to grab her rifle and other gun from where she'd left them, her hair flying behind her, ignoring the pain in her hand. She caught a glimpse of bare heels rounding a corner, and found a burst of speed from somewhere.

A man tried to stop her, wearing body armour, purple, but River swung her rifle into his chin, not watching him go down.

Mara was heading upwards, taking one of the stairwells towards the surface, although she knew River was gaining. Too many days strapped to a chair, and not enough with regular exercise, and she was losing her advantage. With a twist of her body she slipped through a doorway, finding herself in a large room.

It looked like it might have once been a refectory, but now was just a cemetery of rotting tables and old chairs piled haphazardly into one another. Somewhere water dripped through the sagging roof, and dirt and mould covered everything.

"Wait!" River shouted only a few feet behind her.

"Why?"

"I want to talk to you!"

Mara stopped, turning. "I thought you were like me. I saw the cracks, saw the reality beneath the mask you wear, but you're not. You're like them. The rest of them."

"Let me help."

On the mental switchback of the clinically insane, Mara laughed. "Will you play with me? I need a friend, someone I can enjoy life with. I haven't had a friend, not since I was so much younger, since before they all became afraid of me." She stepped forward. "Will you be my friend?"

River, her finger already taking the slack out of the rifle's trigger, paused. Her mind roiled with the possibility that perhaps she could do something, take this broken mirror image and paper over the cracks, perhaps make her if not better, then at least less liable to kill everyone and dance on their graves. "Mara …"

"Hold it!" A man came in through the other entrance, another Alliance Federal, a clumsy weapon held tight against his shoulder. "Put your guns down!"

River calculated the odds of being able to take him, to knock him out before he could fire, but even she couldn't cross the distance between them fast enough. And there was something about the gun he held …Slowly she lowered her rifle to the ground, the pistol joining it.

Mara eyed him, her head on one side. "Are _you_ going to play with me?" she asked.

He stepped forward, just one pace. "Against the wall. Both of you."

"Play?"

"Quiet!" His face was hard, but both women could feel anger tinged with fear pouring off him like a red tide.

Mara turned to look at River. "He doesn't want to play," she said, then winked. A moment later she'd kicked her twin in the chest, throwing her backwards, and ran for the man.

"No!" River screamed, but the soldier ignored her. He fired, and the gas pellet exploded on Mara's breast.

She breathed in without volition, and her eyes glazed. A moment later a roar ripped from her throat, and she picked up a chair, throwing it at the soldier. It impaled him to the wall with two of its legs, and he died gasping.

Mara turned to River, who had managed to lever herself to her feet.

"Fight it, sister," River pleaded. "We can help. _I_ can help." She advanced slowly, the tiny hypo of AntiPax in her palm. She didn't know if it would work, but had to believe.

Mara stared at her. "Fight it?"

River had to swallow hard as the mirror image tilted her head a little, trying once more. "You can come with us. We can teach you. All you have to do is -"

"Fight it?" Mara finished. She saw River raise her hand, about to inject her.

"We'll teach you control. Freya can teach us both. She's so strong. She can help you." River was only a couple of inches from -

"No!" Mara swatted the hypo from River's fingers, breaking two in the process. "Not now. Not when I'm free!" She laughed, sheer insanity in her eyes, and a wave of psychic energy spread through the complex.

River keened, falling to her knees and holding her head.

* * *

Freya, two levels down, was knocked against Alex as if by a physical force, her eyes wide in anguish.

"What is it?" her brother asked.

She held onto him tightly. "_Run-tse duh fuo-tsoo_."

Mal, still doggedly following Simon via the palm reader, stumbled, clutching at the walls. He had no idea what it was, but the hatred that washed through him left him panting, his heart beating a thousand times a minute.

Everyone who was a potential felt it, and even those who weren't had their teeth set on edge, out beyond Hera's atmosphere.

On Whitefall Patience looked up into the sky and shivered. On Mead, the jockey Howell turned over in his sleep in his room above the stable and whimpered as Casmir kicked the wall beneath, more than a little disquieted. The other side of the system, as Theo Hawkins gave a performance of Lear, for the first time in more than a decade he faltered over his lines, and saw his anxiety echoed in Noni's eyes.

And on Lazarus Bethie screamed in unison with Ethan, even as Sam and Inara administered the Heretofen.

* * *

"My legacy!" Mara was crouched next to River. "Mine! For all the years I sat in that chair, doing what they said, just so they would stop hurting me. Now it's my time. Mine!"

She howled, and River could almost hear the answering call from the Reaver ships above.

"No." She shook her head, gathering all of her mental strength, drawing it from the rest of the crew, even if she couldn't physically touch them. "I won't let you."

"You can't stop me!"

"I can." With that River launched herself upwards, catching Mara under the chin with her head, pushing her backwards, following her into the dirt and the crud.

It wasn't fair, gouging and kicking as they were, but it was never going to be. This was survival, and each knew they had to kill to win.

River landed some good hits, but Mara seemed to shake them off, counterattacking by tugging on her twin's hand, on the broken fingers, eliciting a yell but not stopping the onslaught. River swung her elbow, but this time it didn't land. Mara didn't have the Academy training, but she had Reaver impulses coursing through her bloodstream, and her own psychic ability allowed her to forecast moves before they were made, and block them. River had to rely on the skills the Alliance had forced into her, but she knew she was weakening.

She swayed, and Mara took her down, her entire body weight on her chest, raining blows into her face. She felt blood spurt into her mouth as her teeth lacerated her cheek, and she spat, watching it fleck the other woman.

Mara reached out, grabbing the rifle. She pressed the barrel across River's throat. "Mine," she hissed. "Mine."

River felt the air cut off from her lungs, and no matter what she did she couldn't dislodge Mara. Gulping, trying to breathe, her vision began to darken at the edges, and she knew she had little time left.

Then, a spark. Something her brain recognised on a basic level. Someone coming.

_Jayne!_

He ran into the room, staggering to a halt at the sight in front of him.

They looked the same. Bloodstained, dirt encrusted from the floor of the refectory, he couldn't tell which was which. And no matter how hard he thought, how much he tried to mentally contact her, River was silent again.

One of them was losing, taking more damage, her face bloated with bruises and cuts. But still he couldn't tell which one to shoot.

"River!" he yelled, and the woman on top paused, looking at him, but only the one on her back on the floor reached out a hand, bruised and swollen, an intricate tattoo on the third finger …

Jayne fired.

The sound echoed through the refectory, bouncing along the corridors of the complex, seeming to override all other noise until it faded, leaving nothing but an actinic memory.

He stood silent as one of the women disentangled herself, using the rifle to get to her feet. "River …"

"Jayne …"

A moment later and she was in his arms, held against his chest as his felt his heart start beating again. "God, River, if I thought …" He couldn't finish.

"Not dead," she said from the depths of his embrace. "Hurting, but not dead."

He let go, guilt flooding through him. "Hurting?"

"A little," she admitted, smiling shakily.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault."

Jayne glanced down at Mara Tam, and felt something twist inside him. Bile rose in his throat as he studied her face, so familiar, and Boo's handgrip was slick with sweat against his palm.

"She's not me," River said, leaning into him and wiping at her nose, grimacing slightly at the pain in her hand.

"Know that, moonbrain. It's just …"

"You had to. To save me." _My Jayne_, he heard in his mind, caressing him.

"I'd die for you."

"I know. But I'm glad you haven't."

"Was this …" He glanced down, seeing the madness in the other woman's eyes even though they were fixed, dead. "Would you've been like this?"

River shrugged. "Possibly. My genes, but …"

"She was insane."

"So am I."

He took her back into his arms. "No, Riv. Crazy, maybe, but insane … no."

She could feel his blood pounding in his veins, and his heat chased the final chill from her body. "You ground me."

"Long as you want it, girl."

"Then it will be forever."

"That's fine by me." He looked down into her dark eyes, almost wishing he could dive into them.

She allowed herself to revel in his gaze for a moment, then held out her hand. "Set them," River demanded.

Jayne felt his blood run cold at the sight of the mangled fingers. "Moonbrain …"

"Do it. It will hurt, but I need to … please."

"Yeah." Taking his knife from the sheath at his waist he cut a strip from the bottom of his t-shirt. He slid Binky home then took her hand gently in his. "If you wanna, you bite on me. Won't be like it's the first time."

She smiled, then took a sharp breath that turned into a moan as he straightened her fingers. "Just … hurry."

"Fast as I can."

"She could have stopped me," River said, watching him bind her fingers and trying to ignore the white hot stabs of pain that jabbed their way up her arm. "If she'd known. Used her ability. My brain would have run out of my ears."

"Glad she didn't." Jayne concentrated on his task, jarring the bones as little as he could.

"So am I."

At this he looked up, seeing tears run down her cheeks. "Hey, hey, no need for that," he said, pulling her to him. "We dealt with her. Between us. You and me, Riv, like it was always supposed to be." He closed his eyes, breathing in her distinctive scent, overlaid with other odours. "But we still got work to do, _dong mah_?"

"Yes, Jayne." She let go and picked up her hand gun, leaving the dirt-clogged rifle next to the body of Mara Tam as they jogged from the refectory.


	36. Chapter 36

Zoe was quiet in her movements. She knew this, and so did all the purplebellies she'd snuck up on during the war. At least, they knew it in the few seconds of life they had left before she walked away. It didn't matter that she'd worn the same uniform herself once – that was before she really knew what the Alliance were, before someone in a long brown coat persuaded her to change sides. That same someone who'd ordered her to go find Simon's father. And exactly the same someone she was now swearing at under her breath.

So far she'd had no luck finding Gabriel, but she had found Commander Ubermann and his squad, and they seemed intent on letting parts of her not designed to see fresh air get an outing. They hadn't tried the RePax gun on her, at least, but that was probably because they were in close quarters, barely ten yards between their position and hers behind a convenient security desk.

She'd taken one out with a shot to the leg that had him rolling on the floor moaning, but there were still a lot more of them, and she need to get by them, fast. Glancing behind her, Zoe could hear some of the New Browncoats on her tail, stumbling and cursing over the broken light panels she'd disabled as she moved. And the odd sharp object she'd put in the shadows.

Still, one thing was for sure – she didn't want to get caught in another crossfire. She even began to wish Jayne was there, with one of his grenades. But at least she had something in reserve.

"_Don't know if it'll work," _Kaylee had said. _"Might just be a lot of smoke."_

"_That won't hurt,"_ she'd assured the young mechanic, pocketing the ball. "Well, time to find out," she said now, pulling it free and pressing the switch on top. It hummed, she waited the count of three as instructed, and tossed it over the desk and into the middle of the Feds. There was a moment's stunned silence, then voices raised in confusion, and finally …

The bright light was visible even behind her closed eyelids, and the high-pitched whine made her cringe as it assaulted her ears through tight hands. This time counting to five, she lifted herself up, and had to smile. Most of the Feds had their mouths open, probably howling, although for the moment she couldn't hear them, while others were on the ground, curled into foetal balls.

Reminding herself to buy Kaylee the biggest box of chocolates she could find, Zoe sprang to her feet, vaulting the desk and running for the other exit. One of the soldiers tried to grab her leg, but she kicked out, catching him on the temple, and he fell back as she sprinted down the corridor.

* * *

"Emil." Ramsey spoke quietly. "It's me. Don't shoot."

Quintana came out of the shadows. "Do you have him?"

Ramsey grinned, pushing Simon into the light. "Of course."

"Good." Quintana moved closer. "It's good to finally meet you, Dr Tam. Although you're older than I thought."

"Old enough," Simon ground out, feeling the barrel of the gun pressing into his neck.

"I suppose because Mara is so young, I thought you would be too." Quintana shrugged. "It's no matter." He turned to Ramsey. "I've heard shooting. Ours or theirs?"

"Both." Ramsey grimaced. "From what I could tell, we've got Alliance as well as this one's friends down here."

"Reavers too, soon," Simon added, then grunted as the barrel hit a nerve.

"Oh, they won't hurt us," Quintana said, smiling.

Simon stared at him, at the hair like a grey nimbus surrounding his head, at his colourless, disconcerting eyes. "They'll rip us to pieces."

"Of course not. Mara won't let them." He looked at Ramsey. "Do you think you can get to her? I'd rather like us to find somewhere a little less crowded to be for a while, and it would be inconvenient to have to take her back again from the Alliance."

"I can try." Ramsey considered for a moment. "Yes, shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. Once we're above ground, you go back for her. But you'd better bind him now."

"My pleasure." Ramsey smiled as he took a plastic tie from his pocket, looping it around Simon's wrists before drawing it viciously tight, his smile widening as the young man gasped. "Comfy?"

"I can still feel my fingers."

"Pity. But we can't have you getting away, can we?" He glanced at Quintana. "Do you want a weapon?"

"No, I have something better." Quintana pulled a hypogun from his pocket, inserting a phial containing a milky yellow liquid.

"What's that?"

"Tetrabyatin. Distilled from the sap of a plant that grows on the edges of swamps. Some people take it recreationally, but I've never seen the point myself." He looked at Simon, who was staring at the hypo, his eyes wide. "I see you've heard of it."

"Yes."

"Good. Then you know that the normal dose is an excellent euphoria inducer. Yet just a fraction too much and it becomes an exceptionally painful muscle relaxant. So just imagine what this amount would do."

Simon swallowed. He didn't have to. During his residency he'd been called to deal with a man who had taken TetraB, as it was called on the streets, in an attempt to get high. Only he'd used too much, and his entire nervous system was shutting down, one organ at a time, and he couldn't speak, or blink, or indicate in any way the agony he was in, except through his eyes. Occasional tremors would run through his body, but with no antidote it took him a long time to die, and he was conscious throughout.

"Come on," Ramsey said, pushing Simon in front of him. "Get moving."

"Why do you want me?" the young man asked. "I can't help you. I won't."

"Not voluntarily, perhaps, but I have plans." Quintana was hurrying to keep up. "When Andrew Brooks and I were working together, we had such discussions. He told me all about his theory on the psychic gene. About how he believed you carried it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Simon bluffed, feeling a cold hand settle around his heart.

"Of course you do." Quintana smiled, and as gentle as it was it set Simon's teeth on edge. "And the truth is, I came to believe he was right. You are the key. And I don't have to have your willing co-operation, as I'm sure you understand. But your _children_ will help me, because they will be Mara's children."

Simon knew the blood had rushed from his face. "What?"

"Yours and Mara's. Your genetic marker and her total potential. They will be magnificent."

"You must know I'm never going to say yes."

"It makes no difference. I'm a scientist, Dr Tam. And there are ways to promote seminal production that have nothing to do with sexual desire."

"You'd …" Simon had to lick his lips, trying to get some moisture into them. "You'd artificially inseminate her? My own … merciful Buddha."

"When Andrew let slip about you getting River out of the Academy, I have to admit I found it … somewhat odd. Almost incestuous, the amount of effort you put into helping her escape."

Simon tried to keep his anger under control. "She's my sister."

"Half-sister."

"Blood doesn't matter."

"Of course it does. It makes us what we are."

"Circumstances and the conditions of our lives have a lot more to do with it." Simon wondered why he was trying to argue, but carried on nevertheless. "I doubt your parents were homicidal maniacs, or thought you'd turn into one."

Quintana didn't take offence. "No, perhaps not, but they knew I was single-minded. It took me through the years of learning, of becoming better than my peers, and brought me here."

"To playing God."

"Yes." Quintana smiled, as if Simon had answered a particularly difficult question absolutely correctly. "That's it, exactly."

"Well, in this case, you're seriously mistaken. I'm infertile. Ever since I treated the people on Corvus after a Reaver attack. Kroll's Disease."

Ramsey looked at him sharply. "You're sick?"

Quintana hastened to reassure him. "It's not contagious. Nor particularly common."

"So I couldn't help you even if I wanted to." Simon apologised mentally to Kaylee and his unborn child, for once hoping that the miracle was just that, never to be repeated.

"There are treatments. Hyprobetamoxomol, for instance."

"I tried it. All it did was make me sick."

"Then perhaps -"

"It's too late. Corvus was several years ago. I'm afraid my sterility is permanent."

Ramsey looked from one to the other. "Does this mean we can't use him?"

Quintana shook his head. "No, not at all. There are ways round this."

"You mean cloning? But you said clones could be unstable. That they might not survive if -"

Quintana patted his arm. "Even if he's telling the truth, we have access to all the cells we need. And with the splicing equipment …" He smiled benignly. "Perhaps we'll even try a triple combination. Dr Tam here, Mara, and some of the Reaver DNA. That could be interesting."

Ramsey growled. "Just so long as the Alliance gets what's coming to them, that's all I'm concerned about."

"Oh, they will. The Core will lie in ruins before we're finished."

"Good."

Simon stared. "You're both insane."

"True genius has often been mistakenly labelled that way." Quintana sighed. "Andrew felt as you did, towards the end."

"He was a good man."

"He was an idealist. He didn't like what we were doing, and in the end it cost him his life." Quintana smiled, a twisted benevolence on his face. "I wonder if he liked that chewing tobacco I sent him?"

"You." Simon could barely believe it. "You poisoned him."

"Yes." He shrugged. "The man had to be silenced. He was getting too loose with his talk."

"He was an old man."

"So all I did was … quicken his demise somewhat."

"My God …"

"Shh," Ramsey hissed suddenly.

Quintana turned. "What?"

"Someone's following." Ramsey kept his voice low.

"Deal with them." Quintana tightened his grip on Simon's upper arm, putting the hypogun to his neck. "We'll meet you at the ship."

"You sure you can manage?"

"Oh, I've no doubt Dr Tam here is thinking of ways to escape, but I have the upper hand." He pressed the needle a little firmer, drawing a bright bead of blood.

"Shiny. Just carry on along here, then up the next stairwell. You'll come to the church."

"I know my way from there," Quintana acknowledged.

* * *

He'd heard voices, he was sure of that, but Mal couldn't be sure if they were coming from in front or behind him. These gorram corridors seemed to switch back on themselves, and the higher he got the older they looked, and sound seemed to bounce off the rough-hewn walls. Simon's transmitter was still working, but as he got closer it wasn't really helping. As far as he could tell he should be right on top of them.

Trouble was, he was concentrating so hard on the palm reader, he didn't notice the man hiding in the shadows until he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his neck. He stilled, every muscle frozen.

"Well, well, if it isn't Sergeant Reynolds."

Mal turned his head slowly, not wanting to provoke a knee-jerk reaction that would see his head blown clean from his shoulders. "Vic? Vic Ramsey?" He could hardly believe his eyes.

"Mal."

"If it ain't a stupid question, what the gorram hell are you doing here?"

"It is stupid, and you know. Same thing as we were always doing. Fighting the Alliance."

"That was a long time ago."

"Not for me."

Mal stared at him. Vic hadn't been in his platoon, but they'd run into each other a few times, after various battles while they were being patched up. They'd split a few bottles, but were never what might be called close. Still, this was definitely unexpected. "You know, it's odd but you ain't surprised to see me."

"I'm not. I've been leading you here for a long time."

"That was you looking for us?"

Ramsey shrugged. "You always seemed to be one step ahead. So we tried a different tack."

"Patience."

"Yeah. Some of my men are still cooling their heels on Argos, waiting for you, but it's turned out okay. You just showed a bit more intelligence than I was expecting."

"You know I ain't never gonna join you. You know that."

"You should be with us. Sergeant Reynolds, back in charge."

"Captain. And I got all I can handle on my boat. Don't even want to consider taking on more."

"And yet here you are. Trying to stop the Alliance, stop us."

"Yeah, well, I weren't ever really known for being sensible."

"No." Ramsey sighed. "Take off your gun. And put the knapsack down."

Slowly Mal did as he was told, remembering another time, when Vic had told him about a squad of Alliance soldiers he'd come across, and wiped out half of them before they even knew he was there. This man, with the fire of righteous anger burning within him, was not going to be easy to take down. "Last I heard you'd got yourself a small place, and wife too."

"Wife, kids …" Ramsey moved round so he could look Mal full in the face, but his gun never wavered. "Had it all, Mal. Nice home, great family. Only trouble was, it was on Fleetwood."

"Vic …" Mal felt a twinge of sympathy tug at his gut. Fleetwood was notorious, a small moon virtually wiped out by a plague some three years before. It was still quarantined, and everyone gave it a wide berth. "How come you survived?" he asked, somewhat gruffly.

"I was away, trying to get help. Soon as the first folks went down with it, me and a handful of others tried to get the almighty Alliance to allocate some of their resources to us. We begged, pleaded, even went to meet up with some of the Parliament members, trying to get them to do something. Oh, they did it, all right. Cordoned off the entire planet, so when we got back we couldn't even land." His face hardened. "My family. I should've been there."

"From what I hear there wasn't anything to be done," Mal said quietly, silently wondering whether this was one of the cases Dillon had talked about, of the Alliance deliberately infecting a community with something or other, just to see what happened.

"They didn't even try!" It was obvious the anger and pain was always close to the surface, and it only took a scratch to bring the festering poison back up. "What messages did get out all told the same thing. People herded into containment camps, and left to die. My wife. My children. And I didn't even get to bury them."

"Vic, I understand how you feel, but this ain't the way to –"

"Understand? Don't insult me."

"I'm not. Got me a wife of my own, and two kids. If anything happened to them, I'd probably go crazy too."

Ramsey smiled coldly. "I'm not crazy, Mal. If anything, I'm more sane than I've ever been. And they're going to pay."

"How? With the Reavers?" Mal shook his head, beginning to move slowly, his full attention on the man in front, waiting for an opportunity.

"It's what they were going to do. Wipe us out, everyone who ever wore brown."

"So you think it's okay to do it to them. Vic, that makes you no better'n them."

Ramsey was suddenly in his face. "You say that? To me?"

"They were gonna sick the Reavers on us, yeah. Even got those guns shoot RePax." He saw the surprise in Ramsey's eyes. "Yeah. Know all about that. But _you're_ talking about taking out the Core, millions of people. More, 'cause you know they ain't gonna just roll over and give up. They'll send their ships out, after us. All of us. Even if we don't wear brown no more."

"The Reavers won't let them. It'll be confined to the Core. Besides, war always has acceptable losses."

"Accept …" Mal could barely speak. "You know, I was right the first time. You _are_ crazy." Suddenly he moved, grabbing Vic's hand and pushing it towards the ceiling. The gun went off, the noise reverberating up and down the wide corridor.

Pushing with all his might, Mal slammed Ramsey back against the wall, and the gun skittered away into the shadows. Throwing him off, Ramsey growled, hunching down a little, and the light slid along the blade of a knife he'd pulled from somewhere, holding it with his thumb on top, like he knew what he was doing. "Guess maybe you're right, Mal."

They circled each other, until Mal caught his heel in the rucksack and went down.

Ramsey was on him in a second, trying to slash at his throat, but caught his forearm instead, slitting the brown leather and cutting the top layer of skin. It slid down and sliced him across the chest, but Mal ignored it. Instead he struck out, his fist connecting with Ramsey's jaw, at the same time bringing his leg as high as possible to try and catch the other man in the crotch. Ramsey rolled away, but stabbed down with the knife.

Mal yelled in pain as the blade went deep into his thigh, and Ramsey twisted it. There was a scraping sensation of metal on bone, then an almost audible snap as the point broke off. Mal grabbed Ramsey's wrist, forcing the blade to withdraw, and slammed it as hard onto the ground as he possibly could. The firing of all his nerve-endings made Ramsey let go of the hilt, and it slipped from his blood-slick fingers.

"You don't wanna do this, Vic," Mal grunted, trying to hold him down.

"Yeah. I do." Ramsey kicked out himself, catching Mal on the kneecap, breaking his grip enough to be able to shove him hard back into the floor and get his arm across Mal's throat, leaning with all his weight on it.

Rolling in the dirt, his vision was becoming distorted, Mal's breathing was a ragged tugging of breath into lungs that wouldn't work. He reached out, trying to find a rock, anything to get Ramsey off him. His fingers encountered cold metal, and he scrabbled to get a hold of it. Suddenly it was in his palm, and he reached up, slamming it into the man's chest. The spikes extended, digging through skin and muscle into bone, ripping into flesh to hold it firm.

Ramsey fell back, gurgling, trying to get words out around the blood bubbling into his mouth. It spilled down his shirt, soaking it in a moment even as he clutched futilely at the com booster piercing his chest. Maybe he was trying to ask for help or just to curse, but he was already dying.

Mal managed to get to his knees, feeling the fire in his thigh burning into his veins. "Vic, I never wanted it to go like this," he said quietly. "But what you were doing … it ain't right."

Ramsey looked up at him, and for just a moment the old Vic looked back, the man who'd believed in something, and wasn't out for revenge. Then the light went out.

For a long moment Mal stared at the dead man, wondering whether, if he'd not had his ship, his crew, he'd have gone the same way. Then he pulled himself to his feet, holding the still bleeding wound in his thigh and wincing in pain, and went to find Simon.


	37. Chapter 37

This was hard. Very hard. He admitted, at least to himself, that he hadn't exactly given it much thought when he left Serenity, just knew he had to do something, stop Quintana, but he had had no idea how much it was going to take out of him. Not that he'd have not gone, even if someone had read him chapter and verse on it. One way or the other, he'd have been out here.

At first he'd looked down the well, knowing that was where the crew of Serenity had breached the complex. Or rather, it looked back at him, and he knew he wasn't ever going to be able to force himself to climb down the rope, and he'd turned back, surmising there must be another way in.

Resting his hand on a low stone wall, Gabriel paused again, trying to calm his fast-beating heart.

He'd had to take several breaks during his quest, leaning against the ancient walls, or sliding to a sitting position on the dirt, gathering his strength before going on, and each time it became harder to get going, but he forced himself, trying to catch his breath. And the pain in his chest was growing.

There wasn't much left of the Abbey above ground, but he searched everything pretty thoroughly, finding nothing except a small personal ship, tucked away under a convenient overhang. He wondered whether he should disable it, but realised he didn't have the skill. Instead he walked away, and now faced the only place he hadn't been.

Looking over at what was left of the church, he realised it was something of a misnomer. While he had never seen it in its prime, it was obvious that once upon a time it had been magnificent, probably with an intricate and highly carved wooden roof, possibly even a spire or two. Now it was open to the elements, that very roof probably blown into firewood by any number of mortars, and used as such to keep Alliance and Independents warm during the long Hera campaign.

The remains of a campanula sat a few metres beyond, a bell tower that called the faithful to service, but that was now little more than a tumble of rubble, resembling a broken tooth mouthing at the landscape. Only the Abbey walls reached up in prayer to an unresponsive sky, its supplications ignored.

Moving closer, holding onto anything available, he approached a gap in the wall, probably where a door once hung, but paused. He heard could hear voices inside.

"This is insanity," Simon said, staring down at his hands and wondering if he'd ever be able to use them again. They were congested, turning dark red either side of the plastic tie.

Quintana tutted, still pushing the young man ahead of him. "Genius," he corrected.

"And my cells won't help either. Kroll's can damage the DNA. You have to know that."

"Oh, I'm sure we can get around that. Ramsey has a lot of contacts, and there are gene therapies we can try that aren't too painful."

"Too …" Simon shuddered. No matter what he said, how much he tried to persuade this man to be a human being, it wasn't going to work.

There was a sound like scraping coming from the corridor behind them.

"Ramsey?" Quintana half-turned, then pulled Simon in front of him as a shield.

"Sorry, no." Mal limped into the greying light of Hera's late afternoon. "Just me."

"Who are you?"

"Oh, let's just say I'm an interested party." He looked at Simon. "You okay?"

"Peachy." Sarcasm dripped from the word.

"You know, considering I'm actually trying to rescue you, you could try to be a little more enthusiastic."

"I'm sorry, Mal." He composed his face, even though his eyes promised murder. "I'm shiny. How are you?"

"In pain."

"Did someone shoot you again?"

"Oddly, no. Knife this time."

"I suppose it makes a change."

Quintana looked non-plussed by the conversation going on in front of him, and he took it out on Simon, pressing the thick needle of the hypogun a little further into his neck, making the young man gasp.

Mal tensed slightly. "Now, no need for that."

"I assure you there is. And you take one more step and I'll be forced to inject him."

"Hey, not moving," Mal assured him. "Not sure I can, truth be told." He glanced down at his blood-soaked pants leg.

Quintana's lips twitched. "Put your gun on the ground."

"Will you let him go if I do?"

"I'll inject him if you don't. Not much, but it will be extremely painful."

"Mal, just shoot him," Simon said.

"Full dose if you do," Quintana countered. "A slow death, in agony." His eyes glittered. "Do you have any idea how it feels for a man to want to beg for death, and not be able to? Because if you don't put that weapon down, you'll see first hand."

Mal sighed. "As much as I figure I could find a new medic without too much hassle, I have the notion Kaylee'd be a mite unhappy if I came back without him." He leaned forward, hissing slightly at the pull of his own injuries, and laid his gun down on the moss-covered flagstone. Straightening up as best he could, he asked, "So now what? Do we wait here for either the Reavers or the Alliance to get us, or are you thinking I should let you go on your merry?"

"Of course." Quintana spoke as if it was a foregone conclusion. "Ramsey will –"

"Ah, no. He won't. On account of him lying dead back there a ways."

Quintana shrugged, taking the death of his closest ally like he'd broken a nail. "It's no matter. I still have bargaining chips."

"If you're talking about Mara Tam, I'm afraid you're wrong there too."

"Is she dead?" This time Quintana showed a little more concern.

"With her brains scattered all over the wall, I conjure she is."

_I didn't say that,_ he heard in his mind, River's pedantic assertion making him almost smile.

_You mean I ain't allowed to exaggerate a little?_ He could tell quite clearly which expression was on her face without needing to see her.

_Hold on. We're almost there._

Quintana sighed. "That's unfortunate."

"And so're your abominations, in case that was your next question."

Now Quintana looked annoyed. "My, my, you have been busy, Mr …"

"Captain. Captain Reynolds."

"Of the Firefly so aptly named Serenity?"

"The very same."

"Then you'll understand I still have Simon Tam, here. The Alliance want him. I think they're more than likely ready to do a deal to get him. I think you're the ones in trouble."

Mal shook his head and leaned against the remains of what had once been an elaborate pew and now was home to a thousand burrowing worms. "You know, I ain't got the energy for this. You know I ain't gonna let you walk out of here, not with my doc. So you might as well let him go."

"Shall we wait and see?" Quintana smiled, looking like an amiable uncle and not a man willing to sacrifice millions to see his vision come to pass. "And from what Ramsey told me, they're going to be interested in you too, Captain Reynolds. Particularly as there are children on board your ship. Perhaps one of them might be suitable for my experiments …"

"No!" A man screamed from the darkness, and Gabriel rushed forwards, taking Quintana down, Simon falling with them.

In a moment Mal had his gun back in his hand, ignoring the pain shooting through his body, and he stepped forwards, unsure what he was going to find. "Doc?

Simon rolled onto his back, both hands at his throat where a bloom of blood filtered between his fingers. He looked at Mal, and managed to sit up. "Cut me free."

It was an order, not a request, and Mal found himself limping forward, pulling Ramsey's broken knife from his belt as he moved. He stopped. "Shit."

"What?"

"I don't think I can without cutting you."

"I don't care. Just hurry!"

With his eyes tight in concentration, Mal slid the knife between Simon's swollen wrists, knowing from the thin slick of red on the blade that he'd done what he was afraid of. Quickly he snicked the tie, and Simon immediately scrabbled round, cradling his father. He checked his pulse, ran an expert eye over the man, and felt his own breath hitch.

Gabriel's chest was barely moving, his face grey, his lips blue. But as he felt himself lifted up, he opened his eyes, fixing them on his son. "Simon …"

"Why did you do that?" Simon wanted to know, smoothing back the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "We would have handled this."

"How?" A little of Gabriel's old fire burned for a moment, then died back. "He threatened … your children. My grandchildren. I couldn't … have that."

"That didn't mean you had to …" He stopped, seeing his father getting agitated. "Thank you," he said instead.

Gabriel relaxed. "Proud," he whispered. "Always was. Proud of you. Never told you enough. You and River. Proud to have you as my …" He tried to inhale, but his lungs wouldn't work. "As my children."

"Father … Dad … hold on. We'll get help." Simon glanced up at Mal. "Help's coming, isn't it?"

Mal nodded, his throat tight. "Sure. Help's almost here."

The young doctor looked back down. "See, Dad? You just hold on."

"No … no need." Gabriel smiled. "Called … me … Dad …"

"Of course I did. What did you expect me to call you?" He waited, but there was no response, and with trembling fingers he closed his father's eyes.

"Simon …" Mal didn't know what to say, how to comfort.

"He … he saved my life," Simon said quietly, his arms holding his father close.

"I figure he loved you."

"Yes. At the end. Yes, I think he did."

"No, Simon. Always."

The young man nodded, then dropped his head so the captain couldn't see him cry.

Mal turned away, determined to give him some privacy, and his eyes fell on Quintana.

He'd thought he was just winded, but now he looked he could see the hypogun needle was thrust into his chest, the phial empty. Physically he appeared to be almost resting, but the occasional tremors that ran through his muscles bore testament to something other than relaxation.

"_A slow death, in agony,"_ that's what Quintana had said. _"Do you have any idea how it feels for a man to want to beg for death, and not be able to? Because if you don't put that weapon down, you'll see first hand."_ Well, now he was.

Mal didn't want to interrupt, but felt he had to. "Simon." He didn't look around, giving the young doctor a moment to compose himself. "What about him? Looks like he took what he intended to give you."

Simon, grateful beyond measure for Mal's thoughtfulness, wiped his face with his hands. "Kill him."

"What?" Very little shocked Mal anymore, but this did. "You … what?"

"Kill him." Simon stood up. "There's no antidote to the drug in that hypo. And he was right – it will take him a long time to die."

Quintana's eyes flickered from one to the other.

"The rest of what he said. It was true?"

"Yes. Agony. Kill him, Mal. It would be a kindness."

"He was gonna … what he threatened … what he _did_ … maybe he deserves some of it."

"Then give me the gun. I'll shoot him."

"Don't think you got the ability at the moment," Mal pointed out, indicating Simon's hands, wincing inwardly in sympathy at the pain the young man must be going through as the circulation was restored.

"Mal, please …"

Serenity's captain nodded. He understood the doctor's sensibilities, even if he didn't exactly share them. But he'd done it for enough men during the war, men who would never see another sunrise, but die screaming during the small hours. It was a mercy. "Okay." Without another word he leaned down and placed his gun against Quintana's temple.

The noise was loud, even in that roofless place.

"Thank you."

"Yeah."

"You'd better let me take a look at that wound in your leg. It's still bleeding."

"I think there's a bit of metal in there. Sure hurts like the devil."

Simon went down onto his heels, awkwardly pulling the fabric aside. "I'm not surprised. You're lucky. There are major blood vessels running through this area. You could have bled out and no-one could have stopped it."

"Kinda glad I didn't."

"Mal?"

He looked towards the exit from the underground complex, and saw Freya, supported by Alex and Breed, Dillon behind them. He'd known she was okay, mostly, but to actually physically see her made some of the tension in the pit of his stomach evaporate, although how she looked did more than enough to ignite it again.

She was covered in a thin layer of grey dust, giving her something of the appearance of a ghost, but what concerned him most was the large bloodstain on her pants leg, a bandage tied around it made from what looked suspiciously like Alex's shirt. Indeed, the male Rostov was standing bare-chested, revealing a surprisingly well-sculpted upper body.

"You been working out?" he asked inconsequentially.

Alex blushed, all the way up his chest. "After Ephesus, and all that running around we did, I thought perhaps I should."

"Looks good. I mean, if I were that way inclined."

"Jayne's been helping me."

Mal's eyebrow raised as his imagination supplied the mental image he really didn't want to have. "Right." He looked at Freya. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better," she admitted.

"Same leg?"

"Mmn." She knew he was referring to the broken knee she'd sustained some time back, but didn't comment further. Instead she looked at the stain darkening his own pants, and the way he winced as Simon investigated further. "You?"

"Knife. Ramsey was determined not to be the one dying."

"Ramsey?"

"The one with the knife."

"Glad to see he was wrong."

"Made sure of that." He breathed in sharply as Simon pressed around the wound. "Doc, you mind?"

"I'm trying to examine you."

"Fine. Just … you got cold hands."

"My apologies. Do you want me to huff on them, warm them a little?"

"No, no, that's okay. Just warn me next time."

"Of course, captain." Simon went back to work.

Mal looked back across at his wife and nodded at her leg. "So I got knifed. How about you?"

"Roof fell on me," she said succinctly.

He stared at her, then finally said, "Okay. You win."

"It's not a competition, Mal," she said, then the smile on her lips died as any colour she had left deserted her face and she would have fallen except for Alex's arms around her.

"Doc! See to Frey," Mal ordered, trying to take a step back from the young man's questing fingers.

Simon glanced around, seeing Alex lower his sister carefully onto one of the other pews. He straightened up and hurried across. "Support her head," he said, going down onto his knees to examine her.

"I'm fine," she managed to say, pushing at him with kitten-weak hands. "Go back to Mal. He could bleed to death while you're fussing."

"He won't. I'll still have to operate on him, to get the knife point out, but he was lucky. It isn't near an artery." He tried to undo the makeshift bandage, but his fingers weren't yet under sufficient control.

"Let me," Breed said gently, joining him.

"Thanks." Simon smiled gratefully.

Mal hobbled across so he could see what the two men were doing. He drew in a sharp breath as he watched Breed loosen the bandage, and fresh blood appear, glistening wetly on the already soaked fabric.

"Tighten it. More," Simon ordered. "Right," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

"You need to practice your lying just a tad," Freya said, biting her lip.

"Then you know full well I'm not going to examine it here." He looked at his hands. "Even if I could."

"You did me," Mal pointed out.

"That's just because you're … you."

"You and me, we're gonna have a little chat about talking back to your captain," Mal promised.

"I'll look forward to it. Before or after I operate?"

Whatever Mal was about to say was interrupted by Zoe as she ran into the church.

"Sir! We have to leave, now!"

"We got company coming?"

"On my heels."

"_Jen diao mei_." He turned to Simon. "Can Frey be moved? Won't damage anything else?"

"I don't –" He didn't get any further.

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds! You are ordered to stand down. Drop your weapons and surrender." Commander Klaus Ubermann marched through the opening, a dozen Feds at his back, all aiming their rifles at the small group. He smiled in triumph.

Mal rolled his eyes. "_Tah muh duh_, anyone else feel like joining us?"

The comlink in his pocket buzzed, and Hank's voice was heard, muffled but unfortunately more than understandable. _"Mal! Reaver shuttle! It's come down right next to the Abbey! They're headed your way!"_

"That was a gorram rhetorical question!" Mal yelled in frustration to the silent heavens.


	38. Chapter 38

_Someone up there really doesn't like me_, Mal thought to himself as he watched the Alliance soldiers glancing at each other. _First the Feds, and now Reavers …_ "We need to go. Now." He wondered why he sounded tired.

"We're not going anywhere." Ubermann settled his feet.

"Didn't you hear what the man said? Reavers are coming, you _sha gua chun zi._"

Ubermann glared. "That won't do your case any good whatsoever."

Mal held back the sigh just behind his lips, but said, "Zoe, shoot him."

"Sir?"

"Mal," Freya said warningly from her position on the old pew.

"He's gonna get us killed," Mal pointed out.

Ubermann scoffed. "There's no such things as –"

He couldn't finish the sentence as more than a dozen … things … ran through the gap in the wall, blood-curdling cries erupting from their throats, almost falling over each other in their haste to get at fresh meat.

Serenity's crew opened up, and a moment later the soldiers managed to pull themselves together and start firing what should have been kill shots, but barely slowed them down. Unphased by their comrades falling, the Reavers used each body, dead or only disabled, as a shield, protecting themselves to some degree. One of them, faster than the rest, managed to dart forward and grab a Fed, his teeth ripping into the man's neck until his head exploded from any number of bullets. The soldier scrabbled back on his heels to his group, his hand trying to stop the bleeding, thick redness dripping down his purple body armour.

"Mal!" Jayne shouted from the corridor entrance.

Mal half-turned, still firing, at least keeping the rest of Reavers back a little. "Jayne. Grenade?"

"One left."

"Hit the wall."

Jayne's brows creased. "What?"

Mal pointed, down towards the base. "Hit … the … wall."

River, pushed back by her husband into the darkness of the corridor to keep her out of sight of the Feds, nodded and slid an image into Jayne's mind.

He grunted, understanding. Pulling the very last from his vest, his fingers running over Caleb's toy still lodged there, he twisted the top, waited, then tossed it with accuracy to the base of the wall behind the Reavers.

"Down!" Mal yelled, pushing Zoe to the floor as Simon covered Freya with his body, protecting her as best he could.

The grenade detonated almost immediately, the concussion pounding backwards and forwards between the walls. The old, heavy, insecure wall, whose mortar had long since crumbled into the dust that was thrown up by the explosion. It groaned, shifted, fell.

There was a lot of coughing, and shaking of heads trying to clear the ringing, but Mal was on his feet, waving the almost smoky air away from his face, and tasting grit. Something lunged towards him, all foetid breath and blades, and he fired automatically, catching the Reaver under the chin, brains and blood exiting his head in a fountain.

He stepped back from the body and looked towards the fallen wall. Half the remaining Reavers were caught under the large stones, not moving, while most of the others were injured, although the difference between what they'd done to themselves and what they'd just sustained wasn't necessarily all that clear. Those with only broken bones were dragging themselves forward, howling in madness, still determined to get to their prey, but none were going to make it.

"Sir."

Mal felt Zoe at his left, Jayne at his right. "Better clean this up," he said, limping forwards.

Most of the Alliance soldiers joined them, and as the echoes of gunfire died away the air was tainted with the metallic smell of fresh blood and death.

"Drop your weapons."

Mal straightened up as best he could, turning slowly to look at Ubermann. "What?"

"Drop your weapons." The Alliance Commander, his once pristine uniform now dirty and rumpled, snapped his fingers, and the soldiers stepped back, training their guns on Serenity's crew.

Mal couldn't help it. He started to laugh.

Freya looked at Simon. "I think you might have to dope him," she said quietly.

"No, no," Mal said, wiping at his eyes. "I just … this is the most ridiculous thing I've heard. We just saved your lives from Reavers, and you're gonna arrest us."

"There's no such thing as Reavers."

"That old line again? You sound like a broken capture." He touched the Reaver he'd killed with the tip of his boot, wincing slightly. "What the hell do you think this is?"

"A man. One of the New Browncoats."

"I conjure you're maybe half right," Mal said, altogether too reasonable for a man bleeding from several points and in serious danger of collapsing. "Least, he was a man. Once. So why don't you rip that mask right off him? Only be careful. His face is likely to come with it."

"You killed Member Chiang Goff," Ubermann accused, choosing to ignore the body.

Mal sighed heavily. "Nope. He'd been dead a good long while 'fore we stepped in him. Before we even got here, which you'd know since you were chasing us."

The Alliance commander glared at him. "Really."

"Just saying it like it is."

There was a metallic beeping and the Federal officer twisted slightly, activating the discreet comlink on his collar. "This is Ubermann. What is it?"

"_Sir?"_ It was Bradshaw, his voice ringing with emotion and relief. _"We thought you were dead."_

"No. Report."

"_It was Reavers, sir. Captain Bennett organised the crew, and we have minimal casualties, but … sir, it was Reavers."_

Ubermann began to say there was no such thing, then looked down at the body at his feet, skin sliced from the cheeks and pulled back, stapled to the skull. The mouth was one huge sore, and one eye … He swallowed back the bile, then said, "I know, son. I know."

"_Sir, the Reaver ships have disengaged. They're heading out of the system. The Novgorod and York are giving chase, and the captain of the Cuzco asks if he can be of assistance to you."_

"To me?"

"_Yes, sir. As the commander on the ground."_

Ubermann almost preened, pulling his jacket straight. "Tell them to hold until I call."

"_Yes, sir."_

_Mara's dead,_ Mal heard in his mind, and it took all his willpower not to look into the shadows of the corridor where River lurked out of sight. _She no longer calls them, and they've decided to live to eat another day._

_Good. You stay hidden. Don't want the Alliance putting two and two together and making a whole mess of trouble._

Bradshaw was still speaking. _"Sir, there's something else. While we were … we picked up a transmission."_

"Who from?"

"_It's not clear. It was … something was done to it, and it seemed to come from the planet itself."_

Ubermann glared at Mal, who tried his most innocent gaze.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't take me for a fool, Captain Reynolds. I know you have at least two ships here. The Vanguard is still sitting outside, but your Firefly is hiding somewhere. Are you telling me this is all just coincidence?"

"Not saying a word."

"Mmn." Ubermann dropped his head to talk into the com. "What was it? The transmission."

"_We're not entirely sure, sir, but … it looked like some kind of formula."_

"Did you jam it?"

"_No, sir. We didn't have time."_

Mal relaxed a micron, at least until Ubermann turned on him.

"What was it? Was the formula for?"

"Anti-Pax." Mal leaned against the pew where Freya still half-sat. He could feel blood trickling down his leg, slipping inside his boot, and he idly wondered what condition his sock was going to be in when he was finally able to get undressed.

"What?"

"Against the RePax." He wanted to smile at the look of confusion on Ubermann's face. "Or haven't they told you what's in those things?"

The Commander inadvertently glanced at a stubby rifle held by one of his men. "There's -" He stopped.

"Seems to me maybe your bosses have decided you ain't worth the telling." Mal shook his head. "For a man who don't believe in Reavers, you're pretty involved."

"Orders." Ubermann spoke quietly. "Some kind of weapons trial."

"And you didn't even know what it was about." He laughed shortly. "Well, now you do."

"I don't believe you."

"That's up to you."

"Maybe we should try it out on you. See if you're telling the truth."

"Sure. Go ahead." Mal lowered himself gingerly down onto the pew. It creaked alarmingly, but stayed in one piece. "Not sure I got the energy to stop you."

"I do," Dillon said, moving forward.

"Me too." Jayne bristled.

"_Sir?" _Bradshaw's voice filtered into the sudden silence.

"'Sides, it won't do you any good," Mal added. "We've all taken the antidotes anyway."

Ubermann took a deep breath, remaining icily calm. "And you've sent this out."

"Surely have. Both of 'em. Pretty soon everyone's gonna be able to make it, so this trial of yours is something of a dead end."

"_Sir? Do you need assistance?" _Bradshaw was getting restless.

Ubermann didn't take his eyes off the Firefly captain. "No. Not at the moment. Stand by."

"_Yes sir."_

There was a very pregnant pause, and the 'verse held its breath.

Hank's voice coming from Mal's coat made everyone jump.

"_Mal, you still alive?" _He sounded more than anxious.

Mal looked at the Alliance Commander. "If I answer it, you gonna shoot me?"

"Don't tempt me," Ubermann commented, but signalled okay. Mal pulled out the com, causing the other man to add, "You're still using that model? It's so old, I'm surprised it still works."

"Hey, if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Mal thumbed the switch. "Hank, no need to hyperventilate. We're all fine. A little banged up here and there, but we're okay." He glanced at Gabriel's body. "Mostly."

"_How about Zoe? Is Zoe okay?"_

Mal's first mate's lips twitched as he said, "Yes, she's shiny. Can we have this conversation in a little while? Only I got the Alliance staring at me, and I'd hate to see their trigger fingers get too itchy."

"_I'm coming for you,"_ Hank said firmly.

"No, now, that's not -" He saw Ubermann nod slightly, and while surprised he changed what he was going to say. "Okay. Yeah. Set her down next to the Abbey."

"_On my way."_

Mal clicked the comlink off and raised his eyebrows at Ubermann. "You're letting us go?"

"As much as I'd love to see you languishing in a cell, clapped in irons -"

"They still do that?"

" - I really don't want to have to fill in the paperwork. And life is going to be so much simpler if I report that we destroyed a major New Browncoat outpost, with no outside interference or assistance."

"We? You mean you."

"Of course."

"You angling for that promotion?"

"Mal," Freya said, putting her hand lightly on his thigh, wondering if her husband's mouth was about to talk them out of getting away with it.

Luckily Ubermann didn't take offence. "I have ambitions. I don't deny it. And the sooner I'm away from these border planets, the better."

"You know, I feel the same way about the Core."

They shared a silent moment of almost-kinship, then it was gone.

"You have thirty minutes, Captain Reynolds." Ubermann squared his shoulders. "After that I will assume you've allied yourselves with these rebels, and I will hunt you down."

"Shiny."

Ubermann turned to his men. "Search the lower levels for survivors and bring any you find to me."

"Sir, what about the Reavers?" one of them asked.

"Leave them. But bring the other bodies. I want them properly identified."

"That one's ours," Mal said quickly, gesturing towards Gabriel's corpse. "One of my crew."

There was another moment's stillness, when things could go either way, then Ubermann nodded. "Fine. Let them deal with their own."

"Sir." The soldiers moved off at a half-run, back into the darkness of the tunnel.

Mal slowly got to his feet, facing Ubermann. "Not that I ain't grateful, but … why?"

"Perhaps I'm in a good mood."

"Pretty sure that ain't it."

"Then just say I intend to be the hero."

"There's no such thing."

"Then perhaps the closest the Alliance can get."

"And if anyone asks about us?"

"I doubt they will, but if they do, you were just visitors to the Serenity Valley memorial, who unfortunately got caught up in the incident." His eyes narrowed. "Isn't that so?"

"You know, Commander, I think it just might be." Mal smiled.

Ubermann stared at him for a moment, then turned on his heel, striding away. "Twenty eight minutes now, Captain Reynolds." He disappeared into the mouth of the corridor.

"I think his watch is fast," Mal muttered.

Dillon turned on him. "Why did you tell him? About the antidotes? That we have them?"

"Stalemate," Simon said, standing up. "The Alliance have the RePax, but the Independents have the antidotes. Stalemate."

Mal looked at him approvingly. "Yep. No-one has the advantage, least in this. The hybrids are dead, so's Mara. No-one wins, but no-one loses either. Stalemate."

"It won't last," Dillon said.

"Nope. But maybe if it lasts long enough, the Alliance'll come to their senses, and stop trying to make us all the same."

"Don't count on it."

"I don't intend to."

River sidled out of the corridor, immediately going to stand next to her husband.

Simon looked over, then hurried to his sister's side, touching the bruises on her face, his mouth open and his eyes wide. "_Mei-mei_ …"

"It's nothing," she said, waving him away with her bound fingers.

"But you're hurt."

She shook her head. "Jayne fixed me. You look to the others."

"Albatross?" Mal glanced down. "You okay?"

"They'll mend."

"Mara?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"I'm sorry we couldn't save her."

"So am I."

Simon lifted her hair from her face, running his fingertips over the abrasions. "I need to see to this."

"Don't be such a boob. It will wait."

He looked into her dark eyes, for a change seeing an entirely sane person looking back. "River, our father …"

"I know." She pressed her body against Jayne's bulk. "I felt it."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"No, but -"

"Not your fault," she repeated. "And the sanity won't last."

"Never does," Mal said, feeling the situation needed someone to take charge. He glanced down at Freya. "Can she be moved?" he asked.

"Hey, I am still here," Freya said feebly, but everyone ignored her.

Simon nodded. "Yes, but only if someone carries her. If she tries to walk she might do more damage."

"I'll do it," Jayne said immediately, and River smiled lovingly at him.

"Thanks," Mal said, meaning it. "I'd do it myself, but I think I'd maybe drop her, and I can't take the complaining."

"Hey!"

He looked at her. "You just sit quietly, okay? Just this once, you do what you're told."

_You will pay for this._ Her voice caressed his mind like a warm blanket, promising justice.

His lips twitched. _Long as you're around to do it._

_Not going anywhere, Mal._

He smiled as he heard a familiar roar getting louder, and they all looked up, catching a glimpse of the Firefly as she came in low to land outside the Abbey. A few moments later her engine note changed to idling.

Jayne picked Freya up in his arms, careful not to jar her leg any more than he had to. "What about …" He nodded down at Gabriel's body.

"I have a cold store on Columbine," Alex offered. "Until you decide -"

"No," Simon said quickly, aware he sounded peremptory, because he tempered his next words with a smile. "Maybe later, but … my mother will want to see him."

"Then we'll bring him." Breed stepped forward. "Me and Dillon. We can carry him."

"Thank you."

They all walked out of the church, away from the smell of death, and into the fresh air of the Valley. Kaylee already had the cargo bay doors open, and ran out to her husband, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Simon, Simon!" she cried, tears of relief falling down her cheeks.

"_Bao-bei_." He hugged her as if he was never going to let her go, but saw his mother standing, waiting at the top of the ramp. "Kaylee, my darling …" He pushed her away a little so he could look into her face. "I have to … can you wait here?"

"Course I can. What … what is it?"

"Just wait."

Kaylee watched her husband stride forward, heading for the ship.

"_Mei-mei_." It was Mal, limping up behind her, supported by Zoe.

"What's going on, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked nervously. "What's happened?"

"He's telling his Ma about her husband," Mal explained.

"You mean he …" Kaylee's hand flew to her mouth.

"Yeah."

"Oh, Simon." She stepped forward two paces, then another, waiting until they needed her.

Mal glanced at his first mate. "You know, he didn't have to," he said very quietly. "I would've, for him."

"This is something he has to do for himself, sir," Zoe added. "His family."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."

They watched in silence as the moments stretched, then they saw Regan collapse into herself, losing all of her poise and dignity, and the sound of crying reached them. Simon hesitated, just a second, then took her into his arms, holding her close.


	39. Chapter 39

They left Hera, but didn't go far, just to the Arachnids to wait for the Alliance to finish mopping up, Serenity and Columbine sitting cheek by jowl, hidden by the mineral deposits in the spider and her children.

At least, most of them left.

"Jayne, River. You're staying." Mal looked at the pair. "Clean up. Anything the Alliance might find, make sure they don't."

"Good idea," the big man said.

"Yeah, well, sometimes I have 'em." He added, "Just … don't get caught."

River stared at him until he began to feel uncomfortable, then she and Jayne turned, heading back towards the ruins of the Abbey.

The Feds never did find Mara Tam's body, not knowing River and Jayne had hidden it, well away from prying eyes and any scientists who had the notion to try cloning her. They laid her to rest in a tiny alcove behind a rockfall, covered by a cairn and invisible to anyone not psychic, and River said a prayer over her while Jayne stood, his head bowed and his hands clasped together in front of him, waiting patiently until she'd finished. Then they went and destroyed every single piece of paper in Quintana's office, wiping his computer for good measure.

"What about surveillance?" the big man asked, watching the flames consume the last of the hand written notes. "Wouldn't want us being here to come back and bite us in the ass."

"When Freya destroyed the communications centre most recordings went with it. Apart from this." She held up a memory wafer, turning it to catch the light and refract it into a rainbow of colours. "Pretty," she breathed.

"Yeah." He watched her face. "You ain't planning on keeping it, are you?"

"No." She dropped it into the fire, the plastic melting immediately, sparking a little as the heat caused the microcircuitry to explode. "All gone."

"I'll buy you something pretty next time we're near a store," he promised. "Prettier'n that."

She smiled at him, and he knew he was never going to see anything as pretty as her in his whole life. Her smile widened, and he felt the tips of his ears turning pink.

* * *

Back on board Serenity, Simon operated on both Mal and Freya, giving the former the knife point as a memento, and telling the latter to stay off her feet for at least a week, but with little hope of being obeyed. Then he went and sat with his mother, talking quietly.

Finally the Iolanthe and the other vessels moved off, leaving the sky above Hera empty except for orbiting debris that would eventually fall into the atmosphere and burn to nothing but a light show.

The scout vessel was the last to leave, and if it appeared Iolanthe slowed a little as it passed the Arachnids, it was probably an optical illusion, although Mal wasn't sure someone wasn't looking out of a window as they went by.

"You think they know we're here?" Hank asked quietly, afraid to raise his voice in case they heard.

"Not sure I want to speculate." Mal leaned on the back of the co-pilot's chair, his leg aching.

"Wouldn't you be better sitting down?"

"Hurts just as much," Mal admitted.

"Then why don't you go get a painkiller from Simon?" Hank shook his head. "This crew. Every single one of 'em, martyrs. They don't seem to enjoy life if there isn't a little bit of pain involved."

Mal glared at him. "Considering you didn't get shot, stabbed, or had a ton of rocks dropped on you, I think you might want to reconsider that statement."

"Hey, I'm not complaining! And I'm just glad you managed to keep Zoe from pretty much all of that too."

"Said I would."

"Thanks."

"Yeah." Mal stared back out at the stars, seeing Iolanthe powering her main engines and getting smaller with every second, but something was still bothering him. Alex had told them about the blue-handed men, and it was preying on his mind a little. "You sure we don't need to worry about those _hwoon dahns_ having told anyone we were there?" he asked.

"Nope," Hank said confidently, if for the fifth time. "The jamming equipment stopped them sending any kind of report to their bosses, and they were dead before it was destroyed."

"Only if these were like the ones River's always been afraid of -"

"Mal. They're safe. Both of 'em." Hank understood. Being a husband himself, twice over, he knew what was going through Mal's mind.

"I just, you know, them recognising Freya like they did …"

"Yeah."

"Mal?" Simon was standing in the doorway to the bridge, somewhat diffident.

"What's troubling you, doc?"

"Apart from the fact that I told you to keep off that leg as much as possible?"

Mal ignored the smirk on his pilot's face. "Apart from that, yes."

"I've been … my mother and I have been talking … about Gabriel … about my father. I told her about Prometheus, about how it's where …" He stopped, aware he might be about to make a grave error of judgement.

"You want to bury him there."

"Yes." He stepped inside. "I don't like the idea of him being buried in that damn great mausoleum back on Osiris. It wouldn't be right. It should be somewhere with … with family."

"Seems to me you've forgiven him," Mal said softly.

"I … perhaps I have. A little." He lifted his chin defiantly, not wanting to admit he cared. "But I said I'd ask."

"It's not just up to me, Simon."

The young man understood. "I know. But if you could talk to Freya, ask her …"

"I'll ask." He went to pass by. "And if she says no?"

"Then perhaps … maybe he should be buried on Hera. With the other Browncoats."

Mal put his hand on his shoulder. "I doubt it's gonna come to that, Simon." He hobbled off the bridge to go and see his wife.

"He's so sure," Simon said, shaking his head and lowering himself into the co-pilot's chair.

"He knows Frey," Hank explained.

* * *

Mal took the steps down into the galley one at a time, wincing heavily as he went. "Hey," he said.

"Hey." She was sitting at the head of the old wooden table, in Mal's normal place, her hands clasped in front of her. Her leg was stretched out down one long side, resting on another chair, plaster encasing it from mid-calf to mid-thigh.

"You okay?"

"Shiny."

"Wanna try that again?"

She didn't look up, but her hands tightened. "I'm angry."

"Why? What've I done?"

"Not you."

"Then care to enlighten me?"

Her head raised, and he was shocked to see the emotion burning in her eyes. "We had to have Alliance help, Mal!"

He tugged another chair around so he was next to her, and lowered himself carefully into it. "Didn't see them being that helpful, _ai ren_."

"They kept the Reavers occupied while we did what we did. And a lot of people died."

"Lot more would've if we hadn't, Frey. And we're okay. Battered, maybe, but we're alive."

"Tell that to Regan."

He took hold of her hand, pulling it towards him when she resisted. "Frey, don't you think Gabriel preferred going out that way? Saving his son instead of being strapped to a bed in some hospital, having fits and breaking bones 'cause he can't control himself any longer? And worse, knowing he ain't able to tell anyone to end it for him? That's what Mandel's Syndrome does, _xin gan_. I asked Simon."

"But all those others …"

"Alliance knew what they were getting into, engaging Reaver ships like that. And if you're talking about the New Browncoats –"

"I am."

"– then I conjure maybe you've forgotten they were trying to kill us, and lay such waste to the inner planets that'd make our war look like a walk in the park."

"But isn't that the point? Was what they wanted so different from what we fought for? Freedom, of a sort?"

"No." He shook his head firmly. "They didn't want that. They wanted power. And all that'd happen would be replacing one kind of tyranny with another, and by any means." He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "That ain't us, Frey. Never was. And don't go thinking that maybe this makes the Alliance the good guys. People like Jeremiah Smith might be trying to change things from the inside, but they've got their own agenda, their own reasons. And I don't see evidence of any change."

"I know that, Mal, but –"

"They wanted the hybrids." He wouldn't let her argue with him. "Were using Mara to turn the Reavers into a weapon. Hell, created that RePax." He couldn't suppress the tremor that ran through him at the near miss he'd had, and the feeling of all those minds pressing into his, but he shook himself even as he saw the sympathy in her eyes. "They ain't heroes, Frey, just like Quintana, Ramsey and the rest weren't honest Browncoats. Just two sides of the same coin. Out for what they could get."

"I just hate owing them anything."

"We don't." He looked into her eyes. "We _don't_, Frey."

"Whatever you say."

He shook his head and sighed. He knew her, knew her moods, how she took on guilt for things, and that it was going to take a while before she came to her senses. Better if he let it drop now, and maybe try again later. When they were in bed, maybe. Not that there wasn't something to talk about. "Frey, there's something I need to -"

"Yes."

"Huh?"

"Yes. Prom."

"Frey, you ever gonna let me get half a thought outta my head 'fore you read it?" he asked in mild exasperation.

"I have to rebuild my walls, Mal. They're in a sorry state at the moment, and it might take a while."

"Then you take what you need from me," Mal said, squeezing her hand. "You know you always can."

"I know." Her eyes narrowed. "And I don't have to come to my senses."

He didn't blush, but he did smile. "You really are peeking, ain't you?"

"And I'm not taking on the guilt. I'm just –"

"Angry. Yeah, I got that." He changed the subject back again. "So you're okay with us heading to Prom? Putting Gabriel next to the others?"

Her face saddened a little, as it always did when she thought of her lost daughter. "Of course I'm okay with it. The way he saved Simon's life, perhaps yours too, it's … it's right."

He ran his thumb down her jaw. "Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?" he asked.

Freya did blush, just a dusting of pink across her cheek bones. "Thank you," she whispered.

"And _xin gan?_ You're the only one saved my life."

She smiled, the sorrow of a moment before washed away by his assertion. "Sweet talker." She leaned over as much as she could, just brushing his lips with hers.

"You know, as nice a thought as this is – and thinking about it is as much as we're likely to be doing in the next couple of days – there's a place we need to go first," Mal said softly.

* * *

Hank proved his worth once again as a pilot, putting Serenity down on a tiny plateau, with barely enough room to swing a cat, let alone land a Firefly. Alex kept Columbine in orbit, making sure they weren't likely to be disturbed. Besides, he felt, somewhere deep it his bones, that it wasn't his place to be with them. Not right now.

It was afternoon, and a distinct chill had permeated the air.

Mal stood on the ridge, overlooking the deep, wide valley. Zoe stood close by, as always.

"It doesn't look like much," Simon said quietly to Kaylee, a few paces further back. "Just a place."

"You're right, it don't," his wife agreed. "But to the Cap and Zoe …"

Mal heard them talking but didn't even try to explain. He was remembering it the way he'd last seen this particular spot, medships hovering overhead, too late to help the thousands of good men and women lying dead in that god-forsaken place. Almost too late to help those handful that were left. And way too late to help him.

"Sir, we got out," Zoe said, her voice low, not needing to be a Reader to know what he was thinking.

"Too many didn't."

She couldn't argue with him – wouldn't, not with her sergeant – but there was a part of her that wished she knew how to tell him he was wrong, that he had survived, remarkably whole and intact considering what they'd gone through, but she knew he'd never believe her.

Although there was someone he might listen to.

Freya, limping and resting heavily on a pair of crutches, came out of the cargo bay, moving slowly but surely to catch them up. Hank followed her, not helping, fully aware of what she'd say to him if he tried, what she'd already said when he attempted to stop her leaving Serenity. In great detail.

Above them, a small flock of birds wheeled and swooped on thermal air currents rising from the valley sides, calling mournfully over the dry landscape.

"Sounds like people," Simon said, then stood straighter as Freya passed him. "What the … Freya, what are you doing?" He looked back at Hank. "Why did you let her come up here?"

"You think I could have stopped her?" Hank asked in turn.

Freya stumbled a little but righted herself, coming to a halt beside Mal.

"You shouldn't be out here." Mal didn't look at her, just stood staring at the valley.

"You need me," she said simply.

Now he turned to her, saw the firm resolve in her face, the love in her eyes, and he nodded. He held out his hand, taking hers and holding tight.

"There ain't no plaque," Kaylee whispered. "I'd kinda thought there would be."

Zoe heard, though. "There is, _mei-mei_." She pointed. "Not here, but down at the other end of the valley, where the official surrender was accepted."

_Where I ended Xavier Wing_, Mal thought, letting the warmth of his wife's mind wash through him. _After he did that to you._

_Mal._

"This place, this is just where folk died," he added quietly.

A fresh breeze blew from the east, bringing with it the scent of rain from clouds gathering on the far horizon. No more the perfume of decaying corpses of his friends and comrades, nor even the stink of Reavers rotting in the Abbey halfway down the Valley.

"I wish I'd been here," Freya said. "Been able to help."

Mal glanced at her, then moved closer, shaking his head. "Glad you weren't. Frey, if you'd been here, you'd as like be dead. And I lost too many I cared about that day. Couldn't have lost you too."

"But -"

"No buts." Mal squeezed her hand. "I'm just glad you're here with me now."

There was silence between them for a moment, then Freya said quietly, "Prospero thought he could take revenge on his persecutors by using indentured spirits, to drive his enemies into madness."

He looked down at her. "Who?"

"Prospero. Miranda's father." She shrugged as best she could with crutches under her arms. "Shakespeare."

"The Tempest, yeah." He chuckled a little at the surprise on her face. "I ain't that uncultured."

"I know. I just didn't think –"

"Ms Gingrich made us read it one winter. All about vengeance and retribution, I do believe. Although I seem to recall some of 'em came out better men." He tilted his head slightly. "That us?"

"No." She smiled. "And it's as much about repentance and forgiveness." She gazed out at the Valley. "You know, you were right earlier. What you said."

"Course I was," he said stoutly, adding, "What about?"

"Most of these New Browncoats are just folks like us, who want to be allowed to get on with their lives without any undue interference. We fought a war on that principle."

"We lost, though."

She turned, fumbling the crutch a little, then righting herself. "No, Mal. No. You're alive. You have your ship. We have each other and our family. I call that a win."

"She's not wrong, sir," Zoe said softly.

"You think that," Mal said, glancing at his first mate.

"Surely do, sir."

He shook his head and turned back. "You are an odd woman, Freya Reynolds."

She lifted her chin to gaze directly into his blue eyes. "That I am. And don't you forget that."

"I'll try not to." He looked out at the Valley again, relapsing into silence as they stared out from the ridge overlooking the rocky outcrop where Mal, Zoe and a couple of hundred soldiers had made their last stand. They stood unspeaking, each occupied with their own thoughts as the light faded and the clouds thickened overhead.

Finally drops of rain splashed down on them, kicking up the dust. Simon, Kaylee and Hank ran back towards Serenity, where Jayne and River were waiting under the protection of the Firefly's hull. After a minute Zoe walked back, glancing over her shoulder at her Captain and Freya. He was still gazing out, and she wasn't going to leave until he did.

Eventually Mal turned to look at Freya. "You're getting wet," he said almost unnecessarily, taking off his coat and draping it around her shoulders.

"So're you."

He smiled a little and felt some of the tension leave his body. "Wanna go get our kids?"

She smiled back, nodding. "Yes, please."

"Come on then." He took her hand in his again, feeling her warmth spread through him, and they started back to the Firefly, leaving Serenity Valley together.


	40. Epilogue

"Soon?"

Bethie sighed. Jesse had been asking the same question for days, and as much as she wanted to tell the little girl to wait, she couldn't. She wanted it to be now, her own self. "Soon," she agreed.

Ethan looked up from the drawing he was doing as a surprise for his mother, and nodded. "Soon, Jesse."

"How soon?"

"Soon soon."

"_Soon_ soon soon?"

He smiled at his baby sister. "Yes."

Jesse smiled widely, showing little white teeth. "Good." She went back to tickling Fiddler's belly as he lay on his back, one of his legs kicking in ecstasy as she found the right spot. She giggled.

Ethan looked at Bethie, who had an expression on her face far beyond her years. "I'm glad they're coming for us," he whispered. As much as he loved his Auntie 'Nara, he wanted to have his Mama hold him, to show his Daddy how much he'd grown.

"Me too." Bethie had seen, through her Auntie River and Auntie Freya, the small ceremony on Prometheus, when her grandpa was laid to rest. She knew she shouldn't be sad, but there was a little hole in her heart somehow. She'd only known him a few hours, but he was her grandpa. She lay back and looked up at the ceiling of the nursery above them, but not seeing it as her mind went over the images again …

* * *

As much as all the crew wanted to see their children, that was going to have to wait until after a much more sombre task. The two ships put down high on the hill, waiting for Jayne and Hank to finish the digging, then everyone gathered at the grave site.

The warm breeze caught at River's floaty dress as she stood next to her mother, Simon the other side, supporting Regan as Alex, Jayne, Breed and Dillon lowered Gabriel's body into the ground.

"Should be raining," Kaylee murmured, standing just to one side with Zoe and Freya. "Somehow, shouldn't have funerals when the sun's out."

A butterfly wandered past, dipping on the gently moving air, captivating them for a moment before Mal's voice broke into their reverie.

"I seem to have done this all too often lately," he said, glancing at the stone that marked the only remains of the crew of Road Runner, his eyes moving from it to Jethro's grave, then his unborn daughter … "I just pray that I ain't gonna be doing it again any time soon." He cleared his throat, opening Book's old bible. "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside the still waters, he restores my soul …"

River nodded slightly. These were the same words he'd used for Jethro, for Burton Wyatt and his crew … they were right.

As he finished, Jayne picked up the shovel.

"No, wait," Regan said, stepping forwards.

"Mother –" Simon put out a protective hand.

"It's all right. I'm not planning on throwing myself in after him." She managed a weak smile. "We knew this day was coming, even if we both denied it. And we had those last few months together." She gripped their hands. "More, he saw you both. Made peace. And met your beautiful grandchildren."

Kaylee wiped her nose on her sleeve until Freya gave her a hankie to mop up her tears.

"I'm glad he did," Simon said, and meant every word.

Regan blinked hard, her eyes already red from hours of weeping, but determined not to give in. Letting go of her children, she reached into the top of her blouse, pulling out a small crumpled posy tied with a red ribbon. "Bethie gave this to Gabriel," she said softly, inhaling the faint scent of rosemary. "I found it when we were …" She swallowed. "I was going to keep it, but it's not mine to keep." Placing a kiss on the faded flowers, she tossed the posy into the grave.

"It's okay," Kaylee said, her warm heart breaking for her mother-in-law. "She can make you one. I mean, you're coming with us, ain't you?"

Regan looked at Simon. "Can I?"

He looked down into her eyes, and wondered when she'd ever been that much shorter than him. He put his arm around her and squeezed. "Of course you are. I don't think Bethie would ever speak to me again if you didn't."

Jayne caught River's eye, and she nodded slightly. "Come on, Mother. Let's go for a walk."

"Good idea," Alex said, seeing Jayne flexing his muscles ready to fill in the grave. "We can talk about my mother, and you can tell me all the scandalous stories about when she was young."

She understood, and the truth was she didn't really want to see the rich, dark clumps of earth covering her husband. She nodded, and turned away, walking slowly down to the brook that ran along the bottom of the valley.

Jayne stripped off his shirt, his body glowing in the warm daylight, and began to fill in the grave. Hank joined him, with Dillon and Breed.

"You don't hafta," he said gruffly.

"We want to," Breed explained.

Jayne pondered a moment, then said, "Okay."

Freya watched her brother and River accompany Regan down the hillside, Simon a short distance behind. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"What for, _ai ren_?" Mal asked, standing close to her.

"I saw a death. Before. When we were here before. I'm sorry."

"You think you made it come about?" When she didn't answer he moved around her to look into her dark eyes. "Frey, my sweet, darling, crazy Frey, I'm just glad it ain't one of us we've put in the ground. As much as I feel for Regan, for River and Simon, I didn't know Gabriel. And like I said before, he'd've wanted to go that way. And it could'be been Simon we just planted. Or Jayne. Or you." He moved closer, until she could feel his breath on her lips. "And for that I'm giving thanks."

She finally smiled. "Me too."

"And if you don't stop with all this being sorry, I swear I'm gonna put you over my knee."

"You keep promising that …"

He laughed and pulled her to him.

Below them, listening to the water tumbling over stones rather than the sound of earth falling, Regan held tightly to her daughter's hand.

"He won't be lonely," River said. "And they'll have lots to talk about."

"They?"

"The others. I see them, sometimes," the young psychic admitted.

"You do?"

River nodded. "Jethro, Burton, Yuki … even little Alice. Book and Wash, too, even though they aren't buried here … I don't tell the others because it might make them sad, but sometimes …"

Regan didn't know what to make of her daughter. "Ghosts, you mean?"

"Perhaps. Or memories. I don't really know." She smiled. "But they're not gone. Still here, watching us. Kaylee believes, so does the Captain. And Freya. The others aren't sure, and Simon would never admit to it, but they're our guardians."

"I used to tell you stories about them, you know." Regan smiled. "About guardian angels watching over mankind."

"Bright and shining wings." She remembered.

"Yes." Regan turned to Alex. "And do you believe?"

"In the afterlife? Yes. It's how I was brought up. But I know I want to, more than anything."

Regan nodded and looked back over the stream, seeing the valley rising to meet hills, mountains tipped with snow further out. "River, what happens if someone wants to build here?" she asked. "I know we're some distance from any towns, but … what then?"

River shrugged. "I don't know."

"I wish there was something I could do."

"Be my _niang mu zi_."

"Oh, River. Always."

* * *

"Don't be sad," Ethan said, breaking into Bethie's thoughts. Being an empath he couldn't pick up what she was thinking about, not specifically, but her unhappy mood seemed to sit around her like purple fog. "Didn't know my grandpa either." He might not be able to Read her, but he could guess pretty well.

"He was like your daddy," she said, sitting back up, deliberately pushing the gloom away.

Ethan grinned. "S'good."

"Soon?" Jesse asked again, staring at them both. "Be here soon?"

He leaned over and grabbed her, rolling her over and tickling her until she was breathless with laughing at him. "Yes, Jesse. They'll be here very soon."

* * *

"Do you really think those Blue Sun men are psychics?" Zoe asked, brushing non-existent lint off her waistcoat.

Freya shrugged. "I honestly don't know. All I can say for sure is when I damaged those gloves they wear, I could feel … something." From the shudder she gave it was obviously more than that.

River stirred from her seat on top of one of the crates. "Like us. Only not."

"Honey?" Zoe turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"

The young woman sighed. "Taken to the Academy. Worked on. But they were the failures, but not enough to be disposed of. So used in another fashion. Caretakers, in a fashion."

Freya felt ice slip down her spine. "You mean they could've been our friends."

River nodded, her dark eyes bottomless pools. "Unable to control the input, even a little bit. Gloves are more than armour, but keep them sane and useful."

"Albatross, you wanna try and talk in sentences poor transport ship captains can understand?" Mal asked, hobbling down the stairs into the body of the cargo bay. He was healing, but not fast enough, at least as far as he was concerned.

She looked up. "I don't think that's possible."

"Then you wanna try maybe cleaning out the septic vat for a month?"

She gazed at him. "You wouldn't."

"No?"

She backed down. "I was merely suggesting that the body armour they wear, with the gloves, dampen their psychic reception." Her eyes narrowed. "That better?"

"You know, you've been spending way too long with Jayne. You're getting real uppity lately."

Unexpectedly she smiled, lighting her whole face. "You noticed."

He shook his head. "Sooner we get you back to Caleb the better."

"Soon," she said, her whole demeanour one of happiness. "Very, very soon."

The engine note changed, and Hank's voice sounded over the com. _"Might wanna hold onto something. Seeing as I'm gonna break my record."_

"Shit," Mal said, grabbing hold of the railing.

* * *

The flames died away from the bridge window, and Jayne released his death grip on the back of the pilot's chair. It had been either that or Hank's neck, and he considered Mal would probably take offence if he killed the man just as he was landing. Zoe probably wouldn't much like it either, and that was a worse prospect.

"Coming up real fast," he said, watching the ground rush towards them.

"You want to see Caleb, don't you?"

"I'd kinda like to be in one piece to do it."

Hank grinned, somewhat maniacally. "I'm good, Jayne. Admit it. I've not crashed us yet."

"There's a first gorram time for everything."

"Nope. Not today. Got me a son waiting down there." He pointed out of the window.

"Dammit, can you keep both hands on the wheel?" Jayne half pleaded, half threatened.

"It's not a wheel. It's a –"

"You wanna be in one piece too?"

"Fine." Hank fitted his hand back to the yoke, their air speed dropping dramatically as he nudged the retros. "There she is," he said at last, his voice barely audible.

Jayne looked out, seeing Inara's home looking like a toy on the landscape, and he couldn't help a slow smile inching its way across his face. "And …" He couldn't speak as he saw figures exit the house.

* * *

Simon held Kaylee against the counter, his arms bracing them both for the expected slam into the ground.

"He won't," she assured him, taking the opportunity to rest her hands on his chest. "Won't hurt my girl."

"What about the rest of us?"

She giggled, sounding just like her daughters. "He's too good for that."

"Mmn."

Kaylee lifted her chin and kissed him briefly. "Soon be down."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"And Bethie will be there, and Hope, and all the others …"

"I'd better give them all physicals," Simon the doctor said. "Just to make sure they haven't picked anything up."

"They're at Inara's!" Kaylee was astonished. "What could they have picked up?"

"Quite a bit of weight, if Mrs Boden's been feeding them up."

Kaylee laughed. "As if she would."

"Little balls of butterfat," Simon went on, enjoying the sensation of his wife wriggling against him. "So round they won't be able to walk."

"Don't you dare say that to Bethie," she admonished. "She'll think you're …" She stopped, her body stilling. "We're landing," she breathed.

* * *

Serenity touched down with hardly a bump, and a moment later the doors opened and the ramp dropped, and five balls of energy left the group waiting outside the house, running full pelt to meet those hurrying from the ship. Columbine, landing a little further off, was totally ignored.

"Momma!" Bethie shouted, tackling Kaylee and taking her down to the ground with her.

"Oh, honey …"

Simon reached down and picked up Hope, lifting her high into the air before hugging her tightly.

Zoe went down onto her heels, wrapping Ben into her embrace as his father ran from the bridge, almost falling down the stairs in his excitement to get to them.

Ethan came to a halt in front of Freya, looking at the cast on her leg. "Mama?" he asked tentatively. "Can I …"

She smiled, blinking back tears. "Oh, Ethan." She dropped to the ground, ignoring the jarring in her knee as she gathered her son onto her lap.

"Daddy!" Jesse bounced at Mal, who grabbed her, swinging her round. He sat down heavily next to his wife.

"Not going to do it again," Ethan insisted, tangling his hands in his mother's shirt. "Not going to leave us behind again."

"And that's an order, is it?" Mal asked, feeling Jesse almost strangling him, and not minding in the slightest.

"Yes." His son nodded firmly.

"And you think we should do what you say." The nodding increased until Mal was worried his head might come right off.

"Don't tease," Freya whispered. "Of course we're never going to do this again."

"Promise?" Jesse said, her voice muffled from being buried in her father's neck.

Freya reached out, stroking her hair. "I promise."

Jayne strode out past them, River already at Inara's side, taking Caleb from her.

"And how has my boy been?" she asked, tickling his cheek.

"As good as gold. And –" What she was about to say was lost forever as Caleb strained in River's arms, reaching out towards his father.

"Dada," he said, and Jayne's chest swelled so much he thought he was going to burst.

"Oh, Sam," Inara said, crying herself with relief that everyone was alive, and relatively untouched. "Thank Buddha."

Sam wound his arms around her waist. "I agree. Oh, I totally agree." He grinned, his eyes roaming over the small groups until he caught Simon's eye, letting go of Inara so he could move off a little.

Simon saw Sam watching him, and he disengaged himself carefully from his family, joining the older man.

"Did you have to use anything?" he asked, keeping his voice low so no-one could overhear.

"Yes. But only once. They were picking up on something, and … we were afraid they might hurt themselves," Sam admitted.

"One dose?"

"Yes."

"And no ill-effects."

"No. Bethie complained it made her feel like she did when she had the measles, all foggy, but it wore off."

Simon couldn't help being a doctor. "How long did it last?"

"From dose to her finally saying she could hear again? Thirty-two hours."

"Longer than I thought. I may have to adjust the strength if it's needed again." Simon glanced at the family further off. "And Ethan?"

"It more or less knocked him out. I was more worried about him than Bethie. In all honesty, I don't know how much of what he was feeling was being picked up directly, or if she was projecting, but whichever it was … we didn't have a choice, Simon."

"I know." He cracked a smile. "And it's why I gave the doses to you."

"And there's something I need to give back to you. I don't want it in the house anymore."

Simon nodded. The poison. "I understand. But perhaps you should keep it. In case of emergencies."

"No. I don't want small hands getting into it."

"Small?"

"The children. And, of course, Inara and I are trying for a baby ourselves."

"You are?" His eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hair.

Sam's mouth twitched. "Why, don't you think we'd be good parents?"

Simon couldn't help it. He laughed. "You know, I think you might be the best of us all."

"I imagine there'd be some people disagreeing with you." Sam nodded towards the little families, now merging into one as more hugs were made and returned.

At Columbine's airlock, three men and a woman waited.

"You should go to them," Alex said to Regan. "They're your family."

"Yours too."

"I know, but …"

"Exactly."

Bethie looked up, and tilted her head onto one side.

"What is it, sweetie?" Kaylee asked, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

The little girl didn't answer, just let go of her mother and walked towards the Vanguard, her face determined. As she got closer, she smoothed her dress down.

"Grandma?" she said, stopping a few feet from them.

Regan smiled. "Hello, Bethie."

"'S all family," she said, holding out her hand. "_All_ of us."

Taking the small hand in hers, Regan bent forward. "You look very pretty," she said softly.

Bethie preened. "Thank you. And I'm sorry about Grandpa."

A stab of pain lanced her heart. "Me too, Bethie."

"But you can't be sad. Not here. Not allowed." She pulled Regan forward.

"All right."

"Good." She nodded, then added, "Come _on_," in exasperation over her shoulder at the others.

Dillon grinned at Breed. "I think she means us."

"I think she does."

Alex laughed. "I don't think we want to get her mad, do you?"

"No, I think you're right."

The three men linked arms and hurried to join in.

* * *

As promised, there was a party, the table groaning and piled high with food, and quite a lot of drinking on the side of the adults. As Jesse had requested, there were also pressies hastily picked up during a refuelling stop.

Hank got quite a tune out of Inara's piano, and Jayne joined in on the guitar, singing love songs and other ditties that should really not have been heard by sensitive ears. Or any others, for that matter.

Even Mal was persuaded, after sufficient lubrication, to take a turn, and everyone pronounced themselves surprised that he had such a nice voice. Everyone except Freya, of course, who'd known all along. And Zoe, by dint of being Mal's oldest friend, and knowing all of his best-kept secrets.

Alex asked Regan if she'd accompany him back to Osiris to visit his mother, claiming that if she were there his own wife and children might not kill him for being away for so long. Regan knew what he was doing, and was grateful for it. She couldn't bear the idea of going back to that big house without Gabriel being there, and Inara filled her glass to help her take her mind off it.

The hangovers the next day were some of the worst they'd experienced, and Jayne blamed the concoction Mal had put together, although he took that back after being threatened with the airlock. However, fortified with various painkillers from Simon's cabinets, most of the crew were able to enjoy themselves, lying in the sun or swimming lazily in the lake.

Jayne, being Jayne, couldn't sit still for too long, and he and Mr Boden built a small boat, much to Bethie's delight. Hank gave a hand, although after hitting his thumb with the hammer several times he was relegated to shaving the wood, and even then he got an almost terminal case of splinters. When it was finally finished, Inara was given the onerous task of naming it, and to much applause she poured a generous libation of wine over the bow and announced that this was the good ship Serenity II.

"Kinda appropriate," Mal commented.

All in all they spent two weeks on Lazarus, and Freya had to be pried from the bath before they could leave.

And Bethie gave Regan a little posy made of flowers and herbs, tied with a pink ribbon this time, to remember her by.

* * *

Three months later a letter and package arrived for River. They picked them up at Wayborn, at the same time as a new pair of shoes each for Bethie and Hope, some medical supplies and a shirt for Simon, some lacy fripperies that Mal kept hidden ready for Freya's birthday, and two huge jars of gherkins and strawberry jam.

"Just … don't eat them where I can see," Simon pleaded, watching his wife drool at the thought, her hands wrapped around the burgeoning bump at her belly.

The letter River shared with her brother, and then the rest of the crew, in which Regan announced her intention to stay with Eugenia Rostov for a while, if they didn't get on each other's nerves too much. For some reason this made Freya smile.

The package, though, she kept hidden until everyone else had gone to bed, and only Mal was still up, taking the last watch before joining Freya in their bunk.

River slid into the co-pilot's seat, her feet bare as usual, wrapping her sea-green dress around her knees.

"You know, you oughtta wear trousers," Mal commented idly, just glancing at her. "Be warmer."

"I'm not cold."

He smiled. "No, 'spect you're not. You just engender that feeling in others."

"Long words won't make me go and put on pants," she pointed out, her lips twitching nevertheless.

"You want long words? 'Cause I got a few. Some of 'em are in Chinese, too."

"No. But thank you."

He chuckled and went back to gazing out of the window at his unchanging black. "So, why aren't you in your bed, _xiao nu_? Jayne'll be wondering where you are."

"He knows I'm here."

"No secrets, huh?"

"We have secrets. But only things we haven't told each other yet."

Mal laughed. "Best definition I've heard, albatross." He shook his head. "And you haven't answered my question. Why ain't you defiling my shuttle?"

"This." She held out an envelope, thick and official looking.

"What's that? You serving papers on me now? Am I gonna have to hand my boat over to you in lieu of some debt or other?"

"No." She jiggled the envelope.

His lips curving, he took it from her, pulling out a wedge of legal documents. He scanned the top one and his eyes widened. "River …"

"Mother sent them to me. She wasn't sure Simon was ready yet."

"We can't accept this." He was adamant, holding them back out to her.

"Yes, we can. I have. I would just like you to put them somewhere safe. Perhaps with the ship's papers."

"River –"

"It's for us. All of us. So we know our family will never be displaced, and we will always have that final place to go."

He stared back at the documents in his hand. "You know this represents a big piece of real estate."

She nodded. "It is the entire valley on Prometheus, and a fair proportion of the surrounding countryside. My mother was very thorough." She didn't mention that she knew it was bought with the proceeds of the sale of the Tam home on Osiris. She knew that would make it so much harder for Mal to accept. Instead she smiled. "You will be able to continue trying to teach Freya how to skip stones until you're both old and grey."

"With this crew around me I conjure that's gonna be sooner rather than later." He waved the land deed. "This makes you pretty wealthy."

"No. I don't need the money. I have you to pay me when we finish a job." She grinned mischievously, and in a flash was out of her chair and in his lap, taking the papers from his fingers and refolding them. She slid them back in the envelope and tucked it under his arm. "Somewhere secure."

"You know Frey made me change the combination on the safe, don't you?" He put his arm around her waist, wondering if Jesse was going to do this to him when she was old enough.

"She will," River said gently. "And it was no longer appropriate. But it's a nice thought to use Freya's birthday."

"Hey, you ain't supposed to be peeking!"

"Red lace and pink bows …"

For some reason he blushed. "You stay out of my head, River," he ordered, his voice catching.

"Only if you call me _xiao nu_ again."

"Am I allowed? I mean, you made it up with yours."

"I can never go home again," River admitted, her voice a sigh. "I know that now."

"Didn't know you ever wanted to."

"It would have been … nice."

He didn't like her sounding unhappy. "Anyhow, you've got a home. Here. With us. Long as you want it, _xiao nu_."

She smiled, this time happily, and laid her head on his shoulder.

"See?" Jayne growled from the doorway.

"You were quite right."

Mal swivelled the chair round to see the big ex-mercenary standing in the doorway, Freya next to him.

"I'm kinda thinking we should maybe put 'em both out the airlock," Jayne went on.

"That's certainly an option."

"'Specially since this ain't the first time I've walked in on the pair of 'em."

"Shocking. Just shocking."

River blinked slowly. "Jayne," she said, holding out her arms.

He crossed the bridge to pick her up, holding her tight against his chest. "Moonbrain."

"Is Caleb asleep?"

"Yep. Took a couple of stories, but he's gone off like a good boy."

"Then I'd like you to make love to me."

He smiled slowly, desire lighting his blue eyes. "Nothing'd give me more pleasure," he admitted.

"Oh, go," Mal said, trying for disgust. "I knew I'd regret letting you use my shuttle."

River turned her head to gaze at him. "We rent it."

"And I ain't never seen a penny of that money."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Jayne stopped it with a kiss. "Come on," he said. "Let's see if we can't make a little brother or sister for Caleb." He carried her out.

"Do you think he meant that?" Mal asked after a moment's horrified contemplation.

Freya stepped closer to him, lowering herself gently onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "He wants lots of kids, you know that."

Mal felt her weight settle, heavier than River, but all of it his. "Yeah, but she didn't exactly handle it well the last time."

"But she's experienced now. And I'm sure the spoon incident won't be repeated."

He had to chuckle. "No, although that I don't mind, long as it's not being me getting it removed from my shoulder."

"So what did River want?" she asked. "Or do I have to pick your pocket to find out?" She slid the envelope out from beside him.

"Regan Tam's bought us the valley on Prom."

"What?"

"Well, technically bought it for River, but that girl's determined it's for all of us." He touched her jaw. "Better close your mouth 'less you want to try catching flies."

"I didn't … can she do that?"

"'Parrently so." He ran his hands around her waist to rest on her belly. "Looks like Alice's resting place is safe."

She nodded, feeling a lump in her throat that she attempted to swallow back. "And Jethro's. And Gabriel's."

"Hey, don't forget Road Runner."

"I don't."

"That where we're gonna be laid one day?" he asked, looking into her face. "You and me, same grave?"

"If we don't go out in a fiery blaze of glory."

"Nah. We're gonna die of extreme old age, arms around each other, in a warm bed, our great grandkids playing with their kids in the other room."

She raised one eyebrow. "You've got it all planned then?"

"Yep. And there's instructions in the safe to bury us on Prom."

She put her hands on his cheeks, holding him so she could gaze into the depths of his blue eyes. "Good." She licked her lips slowly.

He felt the blood starting to leave his brain. "And … um … I was thinking. Maybe we should swing by Mead. See Isaiah Kilbrook. I think he'd take care of these deeds for us."

She smiled. "You just want to see Casmir."

"Maybe I do. That's a good horse, and I'd like to see him run."

"You're a big softie," she murmured, her breath making his skin tingle.

"You tell anyone that and I'm puttin' you out the airlock."

"And you want to get drunk with Kilbrook, exchange stories."

"How come you know me so well?"

"Let me give you a clue." She smiled, dropping her mouth to his, and his hands tightened on her waist. As the kiss deepened, her fingers ran up to tangle themselves in his hair.

Pulling back a little, he said, "Um, 'fore this goes any further, I take it the kids are down for the night?"

"They are." She nuzzled his ear lobe.

"And they ain't likely to wake up and be wanting anything." His voice was deepening, becoming more gravelly.

"Not a thing." She pulled lightly at the skin over his jaw with her teeth.

"Then … hadn't we better lock the door?"

Lifting her head so he could see her eyes, lightly hooded, yet full of desire for him, she said, "Your boat, Mal. Your rules. And I feel like seeing if we can't extend our own dynasty."

He ran his fingers up her back, knowing her flame tattoo was burning brightly and making her gasp with pleasure. "Yeah," he agreed, all the love in his heart reaching out to her. "Can't let Jayne have all the fun."

He pulled her back down to him, reclaiming her heat, their bodies joining together as Serenity made her small way through the 'verse.


End file.
